What Did You Expect?
by Indiana Beach Bum
Summary: There is a time and place for everything...and it's called college. A dose of slash, StanxKyle [COMPLETE]
1. The Truth Of It All

This is my very first fanfic, guys. Please review and let me know what you think!

**Chapter 1- The Truth Of It All**

"When do you think you'll show up, Ken?" a raven-haired boy asked his friend, who was connected from the other end of the cell phone. Two weeks had passed since he, Stan Marsh, and two of his closest friends had moved into a cute little dump of a house off campus from their school. They were prepared to throw the party of the year, inviting anyone and everyone they could think of.

"Hey Stan! When is he coming? We have to get the keg prepared!" the boy on the cell phone's roommate inquired. He looked at the only other boy left in the house besides himself. "Dude, you know much Kenny drinks. We'll be lucky to get by with just one." He laughed a nervous laugh, well aware that they were all under twenty-one. He knew just how much trouble they could get into if they got caught. But it was the beginning of their sophomore year, and both of his roommates pleaded for a kickass party to start the new school year with. Kyle Broflovski wasn't about to back out of that chance.

He went on with the plans for everything, quietly promising himself that he would remain sober the entire night to monitor any disturbing behavior. He didn't mind staying away from the alcohol. It wasn't his drug of choice anyway ever since he discovered the joys of marijuana near the end of his junior year of high school. He wasn't too worried about Stan either. He was the soccer team's top athlete, and he had too much riding on his shoulders to screw up too badly. It wasn't even a threat that the king of keg stands Eric Cartman was their other roommate, because he was dating Wendy now, and she was going to be at the party too, much to the dismay of Stan. Yes, it was only Kenny McCormick, the "partier" of the group that he was worried about. Kenny was driving all the way from South Park with his roommate Paul to attend their party—he was going to go all out tonight.

He sighed at the possibilities that the night could bring as he carried a giant bucket from the back room into their kitchen. They purchased it exactly two hours ago, when they called up one of Stan's older teammates and learned they were going to be able to attain a keg that night. He picked up the keg and sat it in the bucket. He watched his friend close the flip phone. "Well? When should we tap this thing?"

Stan stared in confusion. "Do we even know _how_ to tap it?" He walked to the side of Kyle and picked up the tap and looked at it as though it was a foreign device. "Hell if I know how to do this. Kenny says it'll be another hour for him. Better wait until Cartman comes back." Kyle noticed a slight flinch in Stan's voice when he mentioned Cartman's name. He knew that it had only been three months since Eric and Wendy started dating, and Stan was doing his best to get over it. But there were still times at night during the summer when Stan called Kyle up to get his mind off of his ex-girlfriend and his good friend.

It was weird to call Eric Cartman a good friend, but Kyle had to admit he had changed. Ever since he received an A in business and economics during high school, Cartman set career goals for himself. This, in turn, propelled him into somewhat of a more mature state. He made plans to attend a university, rather than sit on his ass at home eating cheesy poofs. He realized he was made of something, and made a conscious effort to try harder. Sure, his freshman year he partied harder than anyone Kyle knew, but he still performed outstanding in the given courses, letting Eric know that he was meant to be a businessman. He always enjoyed playing businessman when he was younger.

Thinking about Cartman back then and seeing him now was the biggest transformation of any of the four friends. Not only did he try harder mentally, but Eric Cartman gave into football his senior year of high school, toned up, and dropped the extra baggage he had been carrying from all those years. Now he really _was_ just big boned. Big framed. Not quite as good looking as the rest, but he wasn't labeled a fatass anymore, except when Kyle called him that for old time's sake.

The biggest change in Cartman's life came this past summer, when Wendy Testaburger came home from college and saw what a man he was becoming. Though she had tried to repress her tendencies toward him in high school, mostly because she was still with Stan, she could no longer hide her attraction to him and his brilliance. The three months of summer in South Park for the new lovers was an explosion of emotion, and they hit it off so well they agreed to continue seeing each other, even when she went back to Stanford. This was a huge step towards maturity in Cartman's life, and Kyle was very impressed to see that so far, he seemed to be handling himself quite nicely. Granted, it was only two weeks into the school year.

Kyle snapped back to reality and saw Stan staring at the keg with a blank look. "Dude, you okay?" He knew the answer to his own question.

Stan shrugged. "It just bothers me that she is coming here to visit him, you know? She NEVER would have done that with me. That's why we broke up." He sighed. "I just don't get how she can want someone like Eric Cartman as a boyfriend. Its pretty fucked up."

Kyle nodded in agreement, keeping his own thoughts to himself. He thought Wendy and Eric were the perfect couple, give or take a few flaws. They balanced each other out, called each other out, and had enough passion for two different causes that their relationship would probably withstand the distance between them. "Just get over her, dude. That happened a year ago. You didn't really expect her to stay single, did you?" Kyle paused. He didn't want to go any further without getting feedback from the lonely Stan.

"Damnit, she was so wonderful. I was so in love with her. It just sucks," Stan griped. "It wouldn't have bothered me if she would have hooked up with other guys…just not THAT guy."

Kyle laughed. "Stan, I know you. You would have been jealous no matter who it was. Now get over it, and prepare yourself for this party. There are going to be plenty of other hot girls here in which you can take your loneliness out on. Wendy might even bring a friend—then you could get her back that way." He always tried to put things into perspective for his friend. Stan was his best friend still to this day, and pretty much everything there was to know about him, he knew. He knew how revengeful he was, and he knew just how to relieve sticky subjects such as this.

Sure enough, Stan brightened up. "Yeah, that girl that came to visit her this summer was pretty hot." He sighed again. "But not as hot as Wendy."

This much was true. Wendy grew up into the beauty they all knew she would become. Stan felt so lucky to have been able to be part of her life, much less be able to be with her intimately. The first time they made love, he knew he wanted to marry her and practically proposed. He was pretty sure that freaked her out, and she broke up with him two days later.

Four weeks later they were back together, this time for three years before she dumped him before college. That was the last time he was with her.

Stan had remained faithful to this idea that the on-again-off-again couple he was part of would soon become on-again. He casually dated his freshman year, mostly because he couldn't go anywhere without getting a girl ogling all over him. This made him feel special, but not as special as Wendy made him feel. He slowly gave up hope when she refused contact with him the second semester they were apart. And his dreams were crushed when he found out from Kyle that she and Cartman went on a date. It was too unbelievable. It was even more unbelievable when she told him herself—and he saw them together.

Kyle saw all of this in his eyes and patted him on the back. "I know you miss her, dude," he said reassuringly. "But look at it this way. You know that she is with someone else, so you can put your mind at ease about who she is with or if she is fucking someone. You've got to relax, put the past behind you, and raise hell tonight!" He grabbed an empty plastic yellow cup that was in a stack and signaled for a cheer.

"Dude, you're so gay," Stan said with a slight smile. Just the same, he picked up another cup off the pile and joined in the cheer. Success! Kyle had made him feel better yet again.

"Just to make sure you don't get all sad about her tonight, let's go smoke. It will calm you down. When you see her, you won't have a care in the world." Kyle knew that Stan didn't like to smoke as much as he did, but he thought the offer might be enticing. His friend reluctantly accepted it. As they were walking out of the room, Stan shouted, "CARTMAN BETTER NOT BE FUCKING HER!"

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He pulled around to the front of the terminal into the little parking garage marked "Temporary Parking." It wasn't long before he had found a spot to cram his big gray truck into before practically skipping toward the front doors.

It had been three weeks since Eric last saw Wendy, and she was flying into Denver to spend the weekend with him at his new place at school. Hardly able to contain his excitement, he knocked over an older looking woman's luggage while she was waiting for the bus directly in front of the airport. He ignored her complaining and growls as he slammed open the only door that was not automatic, as if to say "Here I am, world!" He felt so ecstatic. Never in his life has _anyone_ ever wanted to come visit him, much less his _girlfriend_! He had a girlfriend now!

And the best part was, it was Wendy Testaburger, and she was the one to go after him! Cartman had always secretly pined for Wendy ever since she kissed him at the South Park flag debate in the third grade. When she broke up with Stan, he saw it as his shining moment to swoop in, only realizing that she was going to go far away to college. Slowly, he began to forget about her as his freshman year went on. However, two nights after he came back from college, he was in the snack aisle at the grocery store when low and behold Ms. Testaburger strutted her stuff down the aisle to grab some pretzels. Dazzled by her beauty, Cartman immediately stopped paying attention to his number 1 love in life—food—and hopelessly gazed at her beautiful figure as she bent down almost beside him. Much to his surprise, once she grabbed the pretzels, she noticed it was Cartman who was standing near her, and she ran up and gave him a big hug. It was pretty much smooth sailing since then. Aside from the Stan problem.

Cartman had really outshined himself in college, truly gaining the respect of his two good friends, Kyle and Stan. He had stopped the childish nonsense sometime in between his sophomore and senior years of high school—now he was just an asshole sometimes. But that's what his role in their foursome was, right? When Wendy showed interest in him for whatever reason that was, he dropped everything to get with the woman of his dreams. Even if it meant risking Stan's friendship. Cartman didn't care that much about him anyway. Not if it meant _his_ true happiness.

He wasn't sure exactly sure what Wendy saw in him. To him, she was an intelligent, sophisticated, and sexy woman who seemed very independent. But she was drawn to him for some reason, and he wasn't about to mess that up. He was falling in love with her…fast. And now she was flying in to see him, so that they could be together for the weekend. He was on top of the world.

Because of the strict airport rules, Cartman was only allowed to go as far as the security checkpoint. He waited faithfully for his lady to arrive. He felt as though Wendy had turned him into a whole different person. She was so perfectly suited for him.

_Oh no, what if she doesn't show up_, he thought. He remained in one position for a few more minutes, and then started to pace around frantically. What if she was going to stand him up? What if this was all a cruel joke? It was not unlike Wendy to be so devious. That was one of the things he loved about her.

He had shown up to the airport in a red polo shirt and khakis, so as to make a good impression. Once inside, he found a flower shop, where he purchased a single rose for his lady. His chestnut hair was slightly longer than what he would have liked, but he gelled it for added style. He was going to look like a complete dumbass if she didn't show.

That was one of the things Cartman despised—looking like a dumbass. Sure, when he was at a party and really drunk with his buddies, it did not matter. But as he grew up out of his bullying phase, he became very self-concious of what other's thought of him, even more so than when he was little. He already had to deal with his mom being a whore (and technically being his dad); he had to make a name for himself. With Wendy at his side, an intramural rugby player, and a business degree to accomplish, he was sure to overcome the Cartman family curse of ending up a nobody. He had the brainpower to do so.

But this was really starting to piss him off. He glared up at the departure/arrival times, feeling his body temperature rise. "I will NOT be made a fool," he said through clenched teeth, ready to tell Wendy's answering machine off on the phone when he got back in the truck. He glanced down at his watch. 9:27. Her plane was supposed to land at 9:15. It said "on time" next to her flight number up on the arrival screen. He punched the wall, instantly regretting doing so. Yelping in pain, he held his hand and turned to face the wall so that no passersby witnessed his stupidity. "Goddammit Wendy!" he angrily cursed the wall.

"What the hell did I do, Eric?" he heard an angelic voice from behind him retort. He spun around to find his dream woman standing there, looking as pissed as he was two seconds ago. She was wearing the most seductive purple low cut shirt he had ever seen, and form-fitting blue jeans with her hands on her hips. Her jet-black hair was held out of her face by a single rubber band, with wisps of bangs falling down around her face, framing it. She looked absolutely beautiful. He immediately felt remorse for doubting her loyalty. Her expression suddenly changed to delight when she spied the rose in Cartman's damaged hand. "Oh, Eric!" she gushed, wrapping her arms around his thick neck and embracing him in a passionate kiss. He felt like a giant compared to her. Small, petite little Wendy.

"I, uh, got you this rose. It looks as beautiful as you," he replied, feeling lame for trying to be romantic. "Are you ready to get out of here?" he quickly changed subjects.

"Yes! I hate airports. Mr. Garrison was right—they suck ass!" she responded. "I just want to get to your house as soon as possible." She stepped closer to him until he could feel her hot breath on his chin. "I have a surprise for you, Eric."

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Kenny glanced over at his friend, Paul, who was on the cell phone with his girlfriend, Bebe. He liked the song that was on, so he turned it up on full blast. Plus he hated hearing his friend's conversation with his girlfriend. They talked to each other as though they were babies. It was all "I miss you more, honey" in the coo-chi-coo talk. It was enough to make him sick.

Kenny was still adjusting to the fact that Paul was the only one of his friends left in South Park. When Stan, Kyle, and Cartman moved away to college, Kenny didn't have enough money to attend even a community college, and so he was stuck working at J-Mart like he had been since he was fifteen. He had met Paul there when he moved to South Park at age seventeen. He and Paul felt a connection almost instantly, though the other guys didn't seem to care for him too much.

Paul's family was just like Kenny's: dirt poor and alcoholics. They had to move because his dad refused to support his mom anymore, so she remarried and took Paul with her. She was a drunken whore that literally displayed these talents by stripping at a nearby Gentleman's Club. When Kenny was old enough, he went down to see her show, ignoring Paul's furious attempts to stop him. His mom was hot.

When Kenny turned eighteen, he and Paul decided to move out of their dumps of houses and get an apartment together. He knew this was going to take a lot of money, and there was no way he could start saving for a college fund until he found another job. He applied at several places, getting turned down at most everything in South Park due to such a small town's gossip. After almost giving up, he applied at the Mountain Town Grille in North Park, getting hired immediately. It could have something to do with the fact that he slept with the manager. It didn't matter though, he was making enough money to be able to take off the weekend to go see his other friends, and attend the biggest party he would ever get to see that year. He drove his hunk-of-junk Corsica all the way up to Denver, where he was sure to have the time of his life.

Kenny didn't mind his life anymore. It was horrible when he was living at home with his dad, mainly because his dad would beat him up in a drunken stupor. His mom never had enough guts to stand up to the bastard, and let Kenny take all of the wrath. But since he and Paul lived together, they had found their common interests—music and ladies. They were in a band called _Kenny's Most Wanted_ with Kenny as the singer and guitar player, Paul as the drummer. Kyle occasionally came and rocked out with them on his guitar during the summers. They had a couple gigs here and there, but it wasn't enough money being pulled in to even buy a loaf of bread. Kenny was in it because he loved to sing, and because, well, girls love rockers. He had had his share of women since he lost his virginity at age fourteen to a sixteen year old with pierced nipples. He was the wild man of his group, and he didn't mind that at all. And it wasn't going to stop anytime soon. No, especially not tonight, where there would be an ample supply of willing college girls. He was so excited at the thought he could barely keep his pants on.

"Get off the phone, dude!" he screamed at Paul, who was still all sappy with Bebe. He met Bebe when Stan and Wendy broke up, and they started dating a few months later. He said she was the one for him, but he constantly flirted with the idea of scoring as many girls as Kenny. Perhaps he was just jealous. Paul didn't have the looks that Kenny McCormick was renown for. One girl was probably all that he was going to get.

"Alright, honey bunny. I love you too," Paul gushed. "No, I really have to go or Kenny is going to drive us off the road! No I love you more…no I love you more…"

Kenny reached over and grabbed the phone from Paul's grasp. "Bebe? Yeah, Paul loves you. I'll make sure he doesn't hook up with too many girls tonight, k? Bye bye now." He laughed at his cruelty as he hung up the phone.

"Dude! What the hell did you do that for? Now she's gonna be all mad at me! I've gotta call her back," Paul exclaimed. Kenny growled as he handed the phone back over to Paul, knowing the rest of the trip was going to be him and his stereo.

Fifty-three minutes later, he pulled up into a creepy alleyway filled with cars. Paul was still on the phone. "Dude, GET OFF THE PHONE!" he yelled, practically angry this time. "I need to know directions, which house is theirs?" He had already been circling the same block four times now because stupid Paul couldn't give him the right directions the first time. He was relieved to see his anger worked nicely as Paul _finally_ hung up the phone for good.

"It says go halfway down the alley and park next to the dumpster on the right. Their house is white with a brick porch thing," Paul read. He pointed over to a house that matched the description. "This looks like the one!"

They peeled themselves out of the car, arriving to their destination at last. "This place looks awesome!" Kenny shouted out. He was already jealous that the boys were in college, now they had an even better looking house than the second story apartment Kenny called home. "Stan? Kyle! Is this right?" he shouted out, loud enough for probably the entire neighborhood to hear.

His eyes lit up when he saw a boy with black hair walk over to the back screen door. "Hey Ken!" Stan greeted, motioning the two travelers to come on in. He led Kenny through a dark back room where the washer and dryer were into the kitchen. "Look what we have!" he proudly stated, and introduced Kenny to the keg. "Drink up guys, its going to be a fun night!" He tossed Kenny a cup. Kenny removed his wallet out of his worn jeans' back pocket.

"How much do I owe ya?" he asked, almost routine.

Stan shook his head. "Dude, you're the guest of honor. It's on the house. I'll even let you do the honors."

Kenny stared down at the keg, noticing it was untapped. "You don't know how to tap it, do you," he said to his clueless friend. He motioned Stan to give him the tap, and effortlessly clamped it to the top. "Cheers," he signaled as he and his friends filled up with the newly tapped beer.

"Kyle! Kenny is here!" Stan yelled loudly, interrupting the cheers. "We've been smoking a little. It might be awhile before he gets out of his room."

Kenny laughed. It was just like Kyle to get stoned before anything was about to happen. Kenny didn't mind smoking, but he chose beer over anything. And Cartman despised it, claiming that only hippies smoke, and so Kyle was restrained to smoking in his room. Alone, most of the time.

Kyle was brilliant. Kenny was sure he was going to be an amazing organic chemist, or whatever he went to school for. He was one of those kids that was just so damn smart it made your head hurt. And smoking to Kyle was a way of life. Something he did to chill out, hang out, and keep him sane. Sometimes his brain overloaded with knowledge, and when that happened, he would always disappear for ten minutes. When he came back, he would have red eyes and a glazed expression. The saying that marijuana kills brain cells must have not been true for him, or maybe it just balanced them out so that he didn't pop a blood vessel from intelligence overkill.

Stan waited a few more seconds, and then sat down his beer. "Hang on one sec, Ken, I'm going to go get him." Kenny thought it was funny how Stan was the only one to call him Ken. He didn't like it much, but didn't bother to correct him. To him, it sounded like some overly mature old fart who didn't score high with the ladies. "Oh hey, Paul!" he greeted, as he breezed past the two to ascend the stairs to Kyle's room. Stan was the nicest to Paul besides Kenny, including him as much as possible into the group. Kyle didn't really care too much, and Cartman always gave him crap about being poor.

"Hey I'm coming with you, I want to see your house!" Kenny replied. He followed Stan up the wooden staircase that creaked with every move. To the left, he passed a small bathroom, which Stan didn't bother to spend time on. He was sure he was going to be seeing enough of it tonight. Stan walked down the hallway a few more feet and opened the door next to the bathroom. "This is my room," he said in monotone.

Kenny peered into the desolate room. The walls were wood, which was cool, but other than that, Stan had kept it pretty bare. There was a double bed, a dresser, and a computer desk in it. There wasn't much room for anything else. "Cool," he said, still jealous.

Stan retreated back into the hallway and opened a door on the right. "This is Cartman's room," he stated, letting Kenny walk into this giant rectangle of a white room. It was the most boring thing Kenny had ever seen, but it was really long and narrow. "Enough space for the guy," Stan said, as if reading Kenny's thoughts. He slipped in, "he needs it." Stan was still one to make fun of Cartman's weight, even though he wasn't that overweight anymore. Kenny took a mental picture of the room. He wasn't jealous of this room at all. There was enough space to hide a small circus, but there was no personality. All the walls were still bare white, and Cartman had a giant mattress in the corner with a TV set at the base of it. All of his clothes were scattered about outside of the closet, and the only other thing in the entire room was an alarm clock in the middle. There were pictures of Wendy taped above the mattress.

Kenny followed Stan back out into the hallway, able to catch the glare he had in his eye when he too noticed the pictures of Wendy. "Follow me," he said, as to forget about the whole thing. He walked down to the end of the hallway where an old wooden door that was painted off white was. Opening it, Kenny saw there was yet another set of stairs to climb. "This is Kyle's room," he said, with a hint of hostility still in his voice. Kenny climbed the stairs only to be greeted by a window. He had a choice of whether to turn left or right. It didn't matter. Stan turned left and stepped up onto the floor.

Kyle's room was incredible. It was the attic room, and all of the walls and ceiling were wood, with the ceiling forming an A-frame. At the right side was a computer desk with a very high-tech looking computer sitting on it. There was a couch where Kyle was sitting, a chair and an entertainment center at the edge of the room, with another door exactly opposite to the window. That door led into the true bedroom, where Kyle had a bed, a dresser, and an alarm clock, much like every other room in the house.

"This house is awesome!" Kenny exclaimed. He loved college houses and wanted to live in one so badly. If he lived there, it would mean he went to college. The only other college house he had been too was his old girlfriend's, and her house was pretty cool too.

"Hey Kenny!" Kyle said, very long and drawn out. He was obviously high. "I was just watching some TV. "Is Cartman here yet?"

Stan grumbled. "No, not yet."

"That's cool, I guess," Kyle replied. He went back to watching the TV show. Kenny sat down beside him and sat up straight. He studied Kyle's face for a little bit before shouting, "GET UP OFF YOUR ASS, KYLE!"

Kyle jumped almost ten feet in the air. "Dude!" he exclaimed, blinking several times. Stan just laughed.

"Ken's right. Get up before you pass out. You HAVE to last this whole night. I'm not letting you get out of this one," Stan added.

Kyle sat with a blank look on his face for a few seconds longer before snapping out of his daze. "Okay, okay, I'm coming! God!" He looked as if he was in slow motion, lifting himself off the couch, turning off the TV, turning off his computer monitor, shutting off the lights, and following Stan and Kenny downstairs. A little fresh air would do him good.

They were greeted downstairs by Paul, who had his phone out, text messaging Bebe. "Hey guys, whats up? Thanks for inviting me to your party."

"No problem, dude!" Stan said. It seemed like he said dude every other sentence. Kenny rolled his eyes at Paul.

"He is so fucking whipped," he whispered to Stan, who was walking toward the back porch to join Kyle.

"I heard that!" a voice from the kitchen responded.

Kenny sighed. "You are!"

Kyle was sitting on the back steps staring up at the sky. He was about to get into one of his existential moods when he saw the faint glow of headlights turn into the alley. A minute later, the diesel engine stopped, and Eric and Wendy jumped out of the vehicle on their respected sides.

Stan's jaw dropped and he paused in mid motion. He eyed Wendy like a hawk. Poking Kenny, he whispered, "Damn she looks hotter than ever!"

Kenny swallowed hard. _Yeah she does,_ he thought. "You're just imagining it, Stan. Ignore her, okay? For your sake _and_ hers?" He hated how obsessed Stan still was over Wendy. So they went out. Big deal. There were plenty of other hot girls out there. Kenny was going to get with a few of them tonight for sure. But he had to admit, Wendy Testaburger had something that all other girls didn't have. He wasn't sure what it was, but he shared the same lust for her as Stan did, even though Stan's was based on love. Kenny just wanted to fuck her.

"Hi guys!" Wendy said overly bubbly. She left Cartman behind to carry her ridiculously large suitcase into the house. She stopped in front of Stan. "Hi Stan," she said genuinely.

Stan muttered something inaudible under his breath.

"I said, HI Stan," she repeated, growing a bit angrier.

"Hi Wendy," he said softly, with a look of devastation worn all over his face. "A good trip for you I hope." He spoke with little emotion.

"It was great! Especially when Eric here showed up with this rose! Look!" she exclaimed, knowing full well he was going to get pissed at this remark.

Stan took a deep breath. "Yeah, ERIC sure is the romantic type." He stepped aside to let her through the doorway. Kenny heard him mutter "bitch" under his breath.

Kyle looked up at Stan. "Dude, you just gotta let it go!"

Sitting down beside Kyle, Stan frowned. "She purposely said that to rub my face in it. She pisses me off so much sometimes!" He took another deep breath, as to cleanse his thoughts. "All I want to do tonight is have fun. Help me forget about Wendy. Help me let go, guys. That's all I ask."

Kenny and Kyle nodded. A few more moments of silence and then a, "let's get this party started!" Cartman was walking up toward the house with Wendy's overgrown baggage.

Stan glared at him for a second before he joined in. "YEAH! Lets do this thing!"

Cartman looked at Kenny, who turned to Stan in concern. Stan was watching Kyle, and Kyle was staring up into the night sky.

Hopefully this is enough to get started. It was kind of like the intro chapter to get to know the characters. To be continued


	2. Desperately Wanting

Thanks you to the few who reviewed my first chapter. I told you I would continue, and so I have. Don't worry, I promise it gets better!

**Chapter 2- Desperately Wanting**

_Kyle's POV_

The party seemed to be getting underway pretty nicely. No one random has shown up. Good thing too. I'd have to kick 'em out. No way am I getting in trouble this early into the fall semester for a party that I didn't even fully condone. I look over at the dimly lit microwave clock. _11:42_. Not too bad. People are just really starting to show up. It will be pretty hopping by midnight and on. I'm a late night person anyway.

I've got to stick by Stan's side tonight. He looks like shit. Stupid bitch Wendy _had_ to rub his face in her happiness every five minutes. I'm not sure why; she should be content with Cartman. I'm pretty sure they're going to have sex tonight. I can tell by the way she is leaning into him with every drink she takes. They're going to get drunk and screw, as Jimmy Buffet puts it. Lets just hope Stan doesn't find out. God, I need to smoke more.

Nobody knows this, but I've been waiting for this girl to show up. She's like the hottest girl I've seen at school so far, and the best part is…she is my professor. Well, not really. She is the graduate assistant who teaches most of the time when my deadbeat professor is too lazy. So that makes it legal. I don't want to pull a Kenny or anything. She overheard me inviting some guys to the party in class, and she gave me this pleading look like she wanted to come. So I invited her. She gave me a smile that made parts of my body wake up that have been dormant for quite some time.

It's been awhile since I've had a girl in my life. One year, three months, and eighteen days to be exact. I dated Bebe Stevens for a few years back in high school. I knew she wasn't the one for me, but it was still fun to mess around with her. I mean, come on. I was a sixteen-year-old boy. She had an incredible body. Need I say more?

No, I don't mean to sound like an ass, I'm just not into girls right now. After seeing what Wendy did to Stan, and then hearing Cartman tell me about their relationship—not to mention the sickening couple of Paul and Bebe—its enough to make me steer clear of the female species. But I don't mind when they want to come over and make out or anything. I've pretty much lost every interested girl to Stan since we started school, so when one takes a liking to me and sticks with it…I'm going to give her a chance.

I fucking hate that. Because Stan never wants them. He's too in love with Wendy to see how many women truly fall for him. And I can't be mad at him for it, because he never does anything to try to steal them away. Stan's my best friend, but I wish sometimes he would go away so that I could get a chance with one of them.

Then she came along. Her name is Geneva, and she is French. She looks like that chic Sophie on Kill Bill, and I'm completely smitten. She's brilliant. I mean, hell, she teaches our chemistry lab better than the professor himself. And we've talked before. I've told her about Stan. I have to make sure to cover my bases. She says it's a shame that so many girls fall victim to the black haired beauties of the world. She only says that because she's a black haired beauty herself. But I think what she says is genuine. And I can tell by the way she touches my arm ever so delicately when I stay after class for questions that she likes me too. I've never actually gotten up enough courage to ask her out yet, mostly because I consider her my teacher and all. But tonight I think the sparks are gonna fly!

"Dude, you look spaced out!" I heard Stan say in the distance. Whoa, he's standing right in front of me! Damn, I daydream too much.

"I'm just thinking again…" I respond. Every one of my friends is so baffled at how much I think. I conjure up scenarios, provide explanations to questions, and analyze in depth concepts all in five minutes. I've been cursed with the brainpower of a genius. No really, I hate it. I could be way smarter if I tried. But the truth is, I don't care. Ike is the "genius" in our family, pulling a 4.0 since fifth grade. Its funny. I did that too, but nobody made as big of deal about it. Now that Ike is fourteen, he's already in advanced placement, taking practically senior level courses. I could have done that. I didn't want to be separated from my friends. Especially Stan.

"Kyle," Stan says, waving a hand in front of my face. Shit! I'm doing it again.

"Sorry dude. I'm just sidetracked. You should go get another beer," I suggest when I notice that his is almost empty. I want to think about Geneva again. Her long legs, her sexy smile, her soulful eyes…

"KYLE!" Stan repeats himself. "I think you should move. You've been in this spot for an hour now."

I have? Wow, time goes by fast I suppose. I'm not drinking tonight, so that doesn't give me the excuse to space out so much. What the hell did I smoke?

"I want you to come with me out into the living room," Stan continues. He bends down really close to my face. "Wendy and Cartman aren't in there," he says, pointing over at the snuggling culprits. Ah, so that's the reason. The first intelligent thing Stan has said all night.

"Alright, I'm down. I'll be back in a few minutes. Go in there without me," I instruct him. He gives me a strange look, as if I'm going to abandon him or something, and then does as he was told. I watch him walk out of the room before I get up myself and head toward the bathroom.

Once I am safely in the bathroom, I pull the joint out of my back pocket and light up. I'm going to need to spare this if I'm going to get through tonight sober. If my mom knew that I did this, she would be turning me into the dean of students right away. I'm so glad to get away from her. Ike started to smoke too, which in my opinion is a little too young. He caught me once in my bedroom and said he wanted to try. I refused, putting it away as if it was nothing. He told me later he tried it with his girlfriend, and they had sex that night. If mom knew I was the one that influenced _that_, well, she would just kill me.

I look into the mirror to see if I look respectable for my lady. I can honestly say that I like the way I look tonight. I've liked the way I've looked for awhile now. I finally figured out how to style my hair so that I don't like a complete melvin, and my sense of style is uncanny. Sure I'm skinny and white, but some girls dig that, right? Well, that is, until they contrast me with Stan, the skinny but muscular tan hunk that will ruin my chances with girls for the rest of my life. Heh, at least I don't look like Cartman. But even he has Wendy. I fidget with my buttons on my green shirt for another five minutes, deciding whether I want the second one buttoned, or leave my chest exposed. I think I'm going to leave it unbuttoned, because it puts focus on to my hemp necklace, which defines me. Now I'm ready for her.

As I make my way into the living room, I see Stan over with Kenny, who is playing beer pong. God, I suck at that game. He's eyeing me like he knows exactly what I just did. Probably. He knows me better than anyone. He doesn't know about her though. Just to be safe, I don't think I'm going to introduce him to her until tomorrow morning. Yeah, I'm getting my hopes up.

"Hey Kenny, who's winning?" I ask, half interested in the lame game. I'd rather be upstairs doing my homework than throwing a ping-pong ball into a cup of beer and drinking that very same beer. Gross. Stan seems pretty interested though. Maybe that will get his mind off that whore.

Kenny doesn't answer me. He just picks the ball up off the floor and throws it, directly into the last cup there. "Looks like I win AGAIN, Paul," he gloats, and picks up his beer and chugs it.

"Damn, Kenny, you're a natural!" I hear Stan say. "I can't believe this is the second time you've played!" The second time! Kenny has always amazed me. He's like the idiot savant of our group. Only he's not retarded. In fact, I think Kenny might be just as smart as me; he's just never gotten a chance to show it. But the fact is, that boy can do anything he wants to, and he not only completes it successfully—he makes everyone else look like amateurs. I love rocking out with him and Paul. I get lost in Kenny's guitar riffs and enchanting voice.

Kenny takes Stan's comment with a grain of salt. He's used to the praise we give him. But its cool, he never lets it go to his head. He's got other shitty things in his life to not be so thankful for.

"Hey Ken, can Kyle and I play you?" Stan asks.

I blink twice. "Whoaaaaa dude. I am not drinking tonight." Even if I was, I would be so drunk at the end of this game against Kenny, I wouldn't be able to stand up straight. I'm a lightweight.

Stan shrugs. "So? You can be my partner, and I'll drink everything. Besides, it will pass the time faster." That makes sense. I nod in agreement.

"Okay fine. But Stan, I am not going to stand beside you when you throw up tonight," I add. I'm not going through that again. No guy should _ever_ have to go through that again.

Stan smiles. "You won't have to. Come on, let's play!"

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_Cartman's POV_

I wonder what's going through her mind. Every time she looks at me, I get this feeling that my life is about to change. In a good or bad way, I'm not sure.

I feel like the luckiest guy at this party. I'm the coolest one here, number one, and I have this stunning young woman to accompany me throughout the night. If the assholes that made fun of me back in South Park could only see me now. Eric Cartman. King and ruler of all. Everyone bow down to me. People are only here at this party because of me. Not because of Jew boy or even that jock strap that's really starting to piss me off. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that those two were a couple from the way Kyle's been at Stan's side this whole night. I mean, looking at Wendy, we look the same way. But she's my girl.

I feel a lot better now that Wendy decided to show up. I feel like myself again. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I become overrun with such emotions for her, I turn into some sappy faggot who would do anything for the woman he loves. And I do love her. I believe that she is the reason I am who I am today, somehow or another. Look at me; I'm doing it again. Stop it! Well, I guess I'm okay to tell you guys. I just can't let Stan and Kyle find out how I feel. I like them fearing me.

Well I don't think Kyle does anymore. He's not really getting on my nerves as much as he used to. He mostly stays in his room smoking pot like a damn hippie, but that doesn't bother me so I don't care. He's such a smart guy that I'd think he'd realize that one day, he's going to smoke himself retarded. I see him digress little by little each day. It doesn't matter to me though.

Stan, however, is getting on my last nerve. That little prick has been glaring at me and Wendy all night. She's been making me laugh by pissing him off so much. I understand that he is upset that she dumped him or whatever. And now she is dating ME. But that's no reason to give me the death look every time I try to be nice to him. Come on, I'm really trying this year. I do have to live with the guy, right? He's lucky I wanted him to live with me. I could have done great out on my own. I just felt sorry for him.

I wonder what Wendy's surprise is for me. She keeps giving me that look…WHOA! She just touched my crotch. Grabbed it, actually. Damn, is she horny? I'd say she's had a lot to drink. I bought her a bottle of wine near the airport, since I know she hates feeling juvenile with a keg of beer. And I think she drank that whole bottle, now that I think about it. I wonder what is going through _her_ mind right now. I know what I am thinking.

Wendy and I have been technically together for almost three months now. I guess you could say 'together,' even though she despises labels for some reason. She calls me her boyfriend, so I take whatever I can get. I haven't gotten any further than second base with her, mostly because I'm afraid.

Yeah, I'll admit it. Look at her! Wendy Testaburger is drop dead gorgeous and then some. She's got this beautiful shoulder-length shiny black hair, and these big sparkling hazel eyes. Her mouth is killer—I want to kiss her every waking second of the day. And her body. Well…I haven't actually seen it yet, but I can imagine. She always wants to do stuff with the lights off. I think its because she's embarrassed of me. I've felt her soft, smooth skin and curvaceous body—she has absolutely NOTHING to be ashamed about. She's let me play with her before, tantalizing her skin with my fingertips. She says I'm good at foreplay. So maybe someday she'll actually get to find out what a stallion I am in bed. I'm pretty sure I will be. Only I don't think that day will ever come. Sometimes I think I'm kidding myself. A beauty like her and, well, me. The beast. I don't know, I guess I'm not _that_ bad. But I in no way compare to her. She's so flawless and I'm…with flaws.

I'm still heavy. I know I'm not the fatass I once was, but I still could stand to lose weight. This is part of my college plan. By the time I get out in the business world, I'd like to be the dominating husky man. You know the type I'm talking about. If I were skinny like my friends, no one would ever take me seriously. I want to be respected. To be respected, I have to lose a bit more weight. I'll never be thin. I'm okay with that—I'm big boned, remember? I guess you could compare me to the football player build, only I don't actually play football anymore. So my body is going to crap unless I do something about it. So yeah, that's me. I think my face doesn't fit my body, because Wendy calls me cutie all the time. When she does that, she kisses me on the cheek, and plays with my hair. I'm not sure if I should take this as a compliment, but I don't complain. She thinks I'm cute. I think she's crazy.

And I think she wants me. She is definitely pushing herself against me. What is she doing? Is it the wine talking? What time is it? Its 12:30. Why is she looking at me like that? I've never seen her look at _anyone_ that way. At first I thought it was a bad look. She looked as though she was contemplating something. Like she came here, only to break up with me. But her body language is something different.

"Eric, I'm bored," she whispers in my ear, propped on her toes to reach my tall build. "Will you take me upstairs?" She smiles slyly. She's grabbing my arm, coaxing me up there before I can even give her a response. I glance around the place. Stan and Kyle are both in the living room getting killed by Kenny in beer pong, and I either don't recognize or care about anyone else. I want to see what Wendy is up to.

I watch her walk up the stairs before me. God, that ass is breathtaking. She is still holding my hand, walking up so fast, I almost trip behind her. Maybe she is going to show me this 'surprise'. Whatever it is, she is so anxious she is practically ripping my arm out of socket. I am mesmerized by her strength. She yanks open the door to my room and practically throws me in, pushing me ahead of her. I collect myself, and turn around, only to see her with her back pressed against the door, looking up at me with her seductive look.

"I told you that I have a surprise for you," she reminds me, thinking that I could forget about it. She gradually inches away from the door toward me. "Eric," she starts, "I really feel like we are getting along great, and I am falling for you faster than what I ever thought was possible." _Is that a compliment_? She continues, coming so close to me that I start backing up until I trip and fall onto my mattress, which is lying on the ground. She begins to crawl on top of me. "I want to show you how much you mean to me," she says, as she starts kissing me.

I relax a little and go with the flow for a while. The lights are on, so it means we can't do too much. I explore her soft back with my hands and slowly slip into fantasyland as she playfully bites my lower lip, moving her luscious lips to my ear. She is breathing heavily and kissing them just the right way so that she knows I am growing hornier. She seems to enjoy this teasing, because she moves her right hand from my chest on down, stopping, once again, at my groin. Yeah, I have a sexy woman on top of me; she's feeling my response.

"I want to make love to you," she says, so softly as to not ruin the moment, but to drive me wild with excitement. I could pretty much take her right then and there, no foreplay, no turning the lights off, no nothing. After she tells me this, there is no stopping me. But she stops her teasing and gets on her knees. _Where is she going_? I thought…

She is standing all the way up now. Oh, she's turning off the lights. Wait. She stopped. I watch as she gracefully pulls her purple shirt off of her head. This sexy skintight lace purple camisole is underneath. I must say, it's the most revealing thing I've ever seen any girl wear. I can see her breasts, and for the first time, I'm seeing just how beautiful this girl is. Oh wow, she is unbuttoning her pants. Holy, shit! She is wearing matching lace boy cut panties. I'm about to have a heart attack right now. She motions me with her index finger to come join her. I swear I jump up with such enthusiasm; I almost hit my head on the ceiling. Yeah, she knows I'm eager. Who wouldn't be?

I join her, in the center of my room. She takes my arms, and wraps them around her waist, and then she starts kissing me passionately again. "I bought this for you," she exclaims in between kisses. That might just about be the best present I have EVER gotten.

I'm growing nervous as she starts lifting my shirt with her hands. She's never seen me before without my shirt on, what if she doesn't like me? She'll run away in horror, and I'll be left alone with the biggest erection I have had in my entire life. But she doesn't even cringe when she pulls the shirt off my head, tossing it on the floor, somewhere unbeknownst to me. She is clawing at my back, pressing herself closer and closer to me—I feel like I'm swallowing her. Man, if Stan and Kyle knew what was going on up here, I would _never_ let them make fun of me again. Stan would probably try to kill me. Whoa, what the hell am I thinking about those losers for? She's going for my pants!

She's going to find out that I wear boxers. She's never done anything with me…down there. It's always been me making her happy. And now she is unbuttoning my khakis, unzipping them so slowly, I think by the time she gets them off, I'm going to knock her over with the size of my boner. I know its gross, but this girl has gotten the anticipation part down! Man! So now my pants are down around my ankles, and she is pressing into me even harder than before. I walk out of the pants, and slowly guide her to the bed. This is it. This is the night. My first time.

---


	3. A Little Goes A Long Way

Once again, thank you to those of you who review. Those who are reading and not responding…I know you are out there!  PLEASE give me feedback so I know if I should keep going or not! There are several plot twists coming up, starting in this chapter. And just a warning, there is a mildly graphic scene.

Chapter 3- **A Little Goes A Long Way**

_Kenny's POV_

Paul is getting annoying. All he is talking about is Bebe this, Bebe that. I hate that girl, and if he keeps it up, there's going to be hell to pay. Kyle and Stan absolutely suck at this game, and I'm pretty sure I'm drunk off my ass at this time, but I keep tossing down the beers like there is nothing to worry about. I guess I've learned from the best. My dad. The deadbeat asshole who has taught me the true meaning of life. Chicks, booze, and parties. Fuck him, I want to be more.

But for now, I'm going to be the twenty year old I am supposed to be, out drinking with my friends and showing the world that Kenny McCormick can handle it. Hey, I'm supposed to be the "partier" of them, aren't I? Why should I stop here?

Paul is rambling about some unknown time he and Bebe had a fight. They always have fights, they shouldn't be together. I'm the only one that sees that, cause I'm the only one that knows how they are together. I live with the guy. She's not right for him, just like she wasn't right for Kyle. Nobody else cares. But I do.

Cartman used to be my best friend. But when Paul came into town, he had something no one else had. He and I had such similarities, yet we were so different. We fit together—we became good friends. Kyle and Stan never understood it. Why would they? They were best friends themselves. I was always jealous that I couldn't be either of their best friends. Anyway. Cartman I think got pissed. Because he no longer had me to pick on. Paul and I ganged up on him, and eventually he grew out of it. I suppose he is growing up. Heh heh, I saw him and Wendy sneak upstairs a few minutes ago. I bet I know what they are doing. I hope Kyle can distract Stan long enough for him not to notice.

I don't want Stan to be hurt. I always considered him and Kyle to be genuinely good guys, and I never would want to see them sad. Stan especially, he's always so emotional. I don't think Kyle has a care in the world anymore. I'm really glad they invited me up here tonight. Oh god, Paul is STILL talking about Bebe. Now I see him reaching for his phone. That's it. Drunk Kenny or not, I'm letting him hear it.

"Paul, god dammit, get off the fucking phone!" I start. He looks at me blankly. I think he's more than surprised when I take his phone from his grasp and throw it across the room. "All you ever do is check to see if Bebe is okay. If Bebe is going to be mad. Be a MAN for once! She's going to be fine, whether you talk to her tonight or not! Just chill! God!"

Uh oh. I think I made him mad. He is staring at me with an evil eye. "WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW, WHORE!"

_Did he just call me a whore?_

"I don't expect you to _ever_ know how to treat a woman, asshole! Bebe is special to me, okay? Do you know what that means?" He is practically screaming at me now. I think this fight was a long time coming. "Whatever, dude. Fuck you." he tells me, and leaves the room. I think we are both a little too drunk, but I don't care enough to follow him.

It's taking me a while to calm down. I shouldn't care that much, but when your best friend is messing with his life like that, I guess its bound to cause tension sometime. I look over at Stan and Kyle, who look like they are in some sort of lover's quarrel. Ha, they've been together since this party started, never leaving each other's side. Its fun to make fun of them. Come to think of it, now that I listen in on _their_ argument, I think Stan has discovered that Cartman and Wendy are no longer downstairs. Yep, he is not listening to Kyle. He is definitely storming out of the room right now.

I watch them a few more seconds as they make their way around their home, and eventually Stan sprints up the steps. I notice that I am kind of following them, until Kyle shakes Stan's shoulders and tells him something, which in turn causes them both to head up to Kyle's room. Good thing too, I bet Stan wouldn't want to bust down Cartman's door and see him and Wendy together in bed.

I can't say anything though. I'm honestly happy for the guy. I mean Eric Cartman hasn't really had his way with the ladies throughout life. And if this is his first time, then, well, I don't blame him. What better girl to lose it to? Wendy is like the epitome of hotness. I can't tell you how many times I thought of considering if I'd be down for a threesome with her and Stan. I mean, girls like that just don't show up in South Park very often. He was a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Thinking of Wendy makes me want to ditch this party and find some girl to take my sexual frustration out on. I look around the party to see if there is any girl to satisfy me. There is a girl in the corner with thick brown hair and dimples in her smile. She is purposely leaning over the foosball table so that I can see her nipples. She is going to have to do.

No wait. Nevermind. One of God's beautiful creatures just walked through the back door. _Who is that_? She doesn't look like she belongs. I stare at her from across the room. She is wearing this short, short skirt that exposes these incredibly long legs that are too sexy for this party. As I near closer to her, I notice her radiant straight black hair, which is shining even though there is no light to shine on it. Her eyes dart around the room as if she is looking for someone. I figure this is my chance. Girls like that don't randomly show up at parties when I'm around—I'm going to move in for the kill. Moving even closer, I see now she is not even a girl, but a young woman. Way older than the others I see here. She has spotted me by now, our eyes are locked in.

"I couldn't help but notice that you look a bit out of place," I say, well aware that she could take offense to this. Or she could be flattered. Either way, I'm prepared.

She looks at me intently. Her olive green eyes are burning a hole through my deep blue ones. "Actually, I was invited here by a friend," she replies. "But I can't find him anywhere." Damn, she is fine.

I inch closer to her. I think she can tell that I want her. Its one of those instant things. I think she wants me too. "I'm sorry to hear that," I respond. I know this is lame—this isn't one of my best pick up attempts. What do you expect? I've drank close to a keg of beer myself. "Can I help you find him?" I ask. Now this is better. If the girl is aware that I am interested in her needs, she'll be willing to fulfill mine.

She smiles at me. "Kyle Broflovski invited me here. Are you a friend of his?"

I smile back, moving to her side, and placing my hand on the small of her back. "You know, I actually am."

Was this wrong? She looks perplexed. "Are you Stan?" she asks. I frown.

"No, my name is Kenny." I pause and look deep in her eyes.

This brings her relief, as I feel her body relax a bit, and she breathes out. "I haven't seen you around here before."

"Well, I live in his hometown. I'm actually an old friend of his," I fire back. You get the picture. We make small talk. Mostly, I'm trying to figure out if she's interested or not. Which she seems like she is. She is practically cuddling me right now. I know she is into me.

She says her name is Geneva, and we talk for a few more minutes before I can't take it anymore. It sucks that I'm not at home, because I don't have a bedroom to go into or anything. I keep staring down her shirt, trying to figure out what cup size she is. Whatever it is, this girl is fucking hot! I'm running out of time. If we don't go somewhere now, I'm going to lose it. She keeps touching my back and stomach too, pretending to laugh at some lame comment I made. I survey the house, weighing my options.

Stan didn't give me a very good tour. I'm pretty sure he mentioned a basement, but if we got down there and it was infested with bugs and shit, I don't think she'd be too excited about that, so that option is out. Cartman's room is already occupied, and I wouldn't be gross and hook up on Stan's bed. Ideally, Kyle's couch upstairs would be fucking amazing, but he's still trying to calm Stan down from the Cartman/Wendy fiasco. My only option is the upstairs bathroom. How the hell am I going to get an amazing specimen such as Geneva to come with me to the _bathroom_?

She is pressing her body up against me now. I see her look around the room, and suddenly, she leans and kisses me. I can taste tequila on her lips. _Perfect._ A little alcohol-induced persuasion won't bother an intoxicated person herself, so I casually kiss her back. Of course, I don't want to make a scene. This is actually better, because now I suggest, "Do you want to go somewhere?"

I don't know what it is with girls, but it seems like lately I don't have to work hard. I haven't tried to make myself look any better; I'm still the same old Kenny. Yeah, I've grown into my looks, but I'm still the skinniest of my friends, with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. I don't have that much money to purchase an expensive wardrobe, so I always sport the same blue T-shirt that barely fits me. It's a little too tight. The only thing that is stylish is the pants I decide to wear. Tonight I went for my dark tan cargo pants. I have a few wristbands that I bought for a noble cause, and one of them my friend made out of an old seventies tie. I also have a favorite necklace that compliments the shirt. To me, I look like the trashiest guy at the party.

But girls seem to dig it. And this girl is completely diggin' it, because she doesn't have to respond before she starts kissing me harder and nodding her head. Maybe it's the new cologne I'm wearing.

At this point, I think she's willing to settle anywhere that I am, so I lead her upstairs to the bathroom. I open the door wider, and allow her to walk in first. I follow, making sure to lock the door behind me. As soon as I do so, she spins me around and pins me to the door, kissing me almost violently. I like this approach, and so I let her have her way with me. After a few minutes, I'm tired of being passive, and interchange positions, pressing her to the counter on the left. She props herself up on it, her right hand letting go of my back for a minute to search for the light switch. Once she has turned off the light, only the faint glow of a little nightlight in the corner by the toilet, and the thin line of light protruding from the bottom of the door is showing. I have to adjust my eyes to this—I want to be able to see her when we get naked.

I think she is surprised when I loosen one of the straps on her tank top so that it falls off her shoulder. I lightly kiss that shoulder, and I hear her let out a slight whimper. Yes! She's gonna be a moaner!

My hands are both on her shoulders, and I feel her legs wrap around mine. She is pretty much falling into the indention of the sink now, and so I pull her back up, closer to me. I am kissing up and down her shoulder, patiently making my way to her ear. Every girl has a fetish with her ear; it's just up to the guy to find out where and how. I gently bite her ear lobe and breathe heavy breaths into the canal, hearing her respond a little bit louder this time. I make my way to her lips, this time they are juicy and prepared for my tongue. I trace the outside of her lips with my tongue, and quietly move my hands from her shoulder to her back to her ass. Grabbing it and pulling her closer to me allows her to feel my growing erection close to her, and usually this entices the girls further.

Sure enough, she screams out an, "Ohhhh, Kenny!" and starts grinding on me. I love this part of foreplay, because it's usually the girl teasing the guy, but this time, I get to tease the girl. I gently pull the fabric of her what feels like silk panties to the side and massage her, inside. She repositions her arms, grasping my neck even tighter. As I look at her, I watch her entire body shake and her head shoot backwards. Whoa, I don't think she's quite ready for this yet. Her body is telling me to go slower, so I quickly pull my finger out, and make my way to her shirt once more. I want to see these breasts.

I lean in to kiss her again, this time pulling the other strap of her tank top off her shoulder. She doesn't seem to like this approach very much, because she pushes me away just enough so that she takes her own shirt and nearly rips it off of her. She is wearing nothing underneath—I see perfect breasts exposed. She forcefully arches her back, pretty much shoving them in my face, which totally turns me on. I grab the right one and bring my mouth to the nipple, sucking and gently biting until it is as erect as the part in my body. I do the same to the other side. She is still arching her back, which is driving me wild.

Dude, whoever this girl is, is fucking amazing. I've gotten a response before, but never a girl that has made me want to skip all the teasing and get right down to it. This is driving me crazy. Thank you, Kyle, for having such an awesome friend.

She is making small gasps with her lips now. I can tell she is trying to muffle her pleasure. She spreads her legs even further for me, and I can see that _now_ she is ready. Instead of wasting time with the panties, I take a step back and pull them off completely. Now she is in her sexy little skirt, and I'm still fully clothed. We've got to get this moving. No need, she pulls me back and pulls my shirt over my head aggressively. We now caress each other, touching our bare bodies to one another. That is one of my favorite parts. God, I love the female body. She has fallen back into the sink again, and her head and shoulders are resting against the background mirror. She's pulled my upper half up there with her, so I'm not complaining. I take a minute and look down at her incredible body. That skirt is so damn short it isn't covering _anything_. She could be naked right now, it wouldn't make a difference. But I like the skirt, so I keep it.

It's too much—she is making me wait too long. But right now she is searching for my belt buckle and trying to maneuver my pants off. Its cute, she's struggling so much. I help her out a little bit, and my pants instantly fall to the floor. My boxers don't hold in my erection very well. Doesn't matter, she's pulling those off too. Wow, my clothes came off fast. She must be as ready as I am! I kick the crumpled clothes mass to the side, and bring her close to me, pulling her ass out of the sink groove once again.

She arches her back again as I grab her lower back to pull her toward me, and I take another minute to appreciate what an amazing body this girl has. I pull her so close to me, I feel myself slide inside of her. And like that, we are fucking.

God damn, it's a good fuck too. She isn't going to stop until she comes, I can tell. And its not going to happen in a position like this. I forcefully pull her out of the sink, with her legs still wrapped around my lower torso. With her arms wrapped around my neck, I gently lower her to the cold linoleum floor—I can feel myself still inside of her. She grinds up and down, her nipples growing twice in size from the shock of the cold to her back. She reaches her hands down and grabs my ass as I have with her once before. I like when they are aggressive too. We are both making plenty of noises now. It's only a matter of time before someone breaks open the door. But for the time, I'm lost inside the hottest girl at the party…

---

_Stan's POV_

"Dude, Kyle, you suck at this game!" I blurt out, watching as he can barely hit the table, much less the cups of beer.

"Yeah, well I'm sober," he shoots back, making me realize how pointless this probably is for him. Kyle was never a fan of the drink. I, myself, enjoy knocking the beers back and watching time go by. Yeah, all the guys on the soccer team are probably alcoholics. I think it's a rule if you're in varsity sports or something.

I'm not sure what it is, but I have always been really good at sports. All throughout grade school and high school, I was the star quarterback, or the star pitcher, or something else really lame like that. I never really enjoyed those games—it was just something I'd been coaxed into doing because I was letting my town down or something. What's funny is that I tried out for soccer last year as a walk-on, hoping to get to practice with a sport that I could potentially enjoy. I guess I was pretty good at it too, because this year I'm starting out varsity, and I'm the ONLY sophomore to do that. Its weird, but I actually do like kicking the ball around on the field. It also meant making a lot of friends really quickly. Half the guys at this party are my buddies from the team. A lot of them came for the beer despite how they feel about me. I'm pretty sure they hate me for taking a position away from one of the upperclassmen.

Kyle has stuck by my side through it all. Just like he is now. Just like this party, I get the feeling he doesn't give a shit about soccer. Yet he's always at every game, cheering me on in with the others he bribed into coming with him. Sure, he's usually high as a kite and doesn't pay that much attention, but his presence is what really matters to me.

Wendy went to all of my games. She was the girl in the front row with her face painted and a bullhorn that said "I love #7" on it. Of course I was number seven. Everyone in high school knew she was my girl, and every guy was jealous of me because of it. It was cool cause I would show up at her volleyball games the same way, and all the girls would give me puppy dog eyes and ogle over how adorable I was. I could tell she was digging that kind of attention, so I tried to outdo myself each game. God, I miss her…

I screwed up. Bad. I'm not sure how, but Wendy doesn't love me anymore. I'm not sure if she ever did. Drinking myself away tonight is only going to reaffirm the fact that she is not here with me. She is here with Cartman. That two-faced son-of-a-bitch who was secretly out to seduce her since she kissed him way back when. He joked about it all the time with me, saying she was only warming up with me, and when she needed a real man, she would come flocking to him. Funny thing. That's what she did. And now I'm left alone. Alone without Wendy. Wendy. I love her so much.

I pound another beer back, and I hear Paul and Kenny starting to fight about Bebe. Bebe's cool and all, but she is not relationship material. It was always a riot to double date with her and Kyle, because he would be sneaking off to get stoned so he could sit through her boring ass conversations about what store is her favorite and why. He was only in it for the sex, and I'm pretty sure he felt that it was worth staying with her for so long. I think he finally broke it off because he was going to have a nervous breakdown if she didn't shut up. Wendy got pretty mad at me after that, punishing me for not convincing Kyle to stay with Bebe. Dude, I wasn't going to tell him to stay tied down to that girl—she is not the right person for him. He needs someone who will be wiling to sit with him in silence, but appreciates just how amazing he truly is. Someone who he can relate to intellectually, and won't make him feel as though he has dumb down his conversation. Someone who knows him inside and out, and will love him no matter what. Yeah, Kyle is my best friend. I wish so badly that he would find someone to love him back.

I know how girls are to him. They are freaked out by the brainiac, unsure of how to relate to his massive intellect. The usually run away with their tails in between their legs for fear of rejection. If only they knew that he doesn't really reject anybody, especially girls that are interested in him. I don't think he's bad looking at all—I don't understand why there aren't more girls following him around.

There was only one time during our entire high school relationship where I thought I was going to break up with Wendy. She found out that Kyle smoked, and shortly after she began to monitor me to make sure I wasn't exhibiting the same behaviors. This annoyed me, but I let it pass. Until she would call me to see whom I was with, making sure I wasn't with Kyle. When I was, she let out this disappointed sigh, and we would hang up. I knew she disliked him then, and she almost tried to break our friendship up because of it. We argued day in and day out for a good two weeks about it before she, for once, gave in to me. After all, he's MY friend. My best friend. It didn't matter to me if she, or any other girl, approved of him. He was still the greatest guy I have ever known.

I watched as my friend made one last pathetic attempt to hit the ball into the beer cup. When he failed, Kenny stopped fighting with Paul just long enough to look at us and laugh. Their argument seems very dreamlike to me. "Dude, I'm fucking wasted," I mention to Kyle, who is braced in a position in case I fall backwards. I'm not going to do that to him this time. I think I'll stop drinking now.

I see Paul reach for his phone. "All you ever do is check to see if Bebe is okay," I hear Kenny fume. "If Bebe is going to be mad. Be a MAN for once! She's going to be fine, whether you talk to her tonight or not! Just chill! God!"

"WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW, WHORE!" Paul retorts. I chuckle to myself. Kenny really is a whore. He's slept with more girls than Kyle, Cartman, and I have kissed put together. If a girl friend of mine ever showed interest in him, I would steer them clear and never let them get within twenty feet of him. Still, its funny how he looks like he's offended that Paul pointed out the obvious. Whoa! Paul just told him to fuck off and is leaving. My eyes trail Paul as he leaves the living room, storming into the hallway, past the kitchen…_where's Cartman and Wendy_!

"Where's Cartman and Wendy?" I ask again, aloud. I frantically speed into the kitchen, darting my eyes around the place. I'm not seeing them anywhere. I turn back and head toward the back of the house. Kyle is still standing next to the beer pong table, watching Kenny as he attempts to calm down. I can feel my own body heat rising as I suddenly realize they are nowhere to be found! I stomp back into the living room, meeting Kyle's side.

"Cartman and Wendy disappeared!" I say, protectively.

Kyle just gives me a 'what do you want me to do about it' look and blinks his eyes.

I make a short of hand gesture to show my rising anger. "Dude! What the hell? Where are they!"

Kyle sighs. "Stan. For the last time. You and Wendy are not together anymore. It's none of your business where she is at right now. She is not yours to protect anymore, okay dude?" he says caringly, and puts his hands on my shoulders. This isn't calming me down. I don't care if I'm being a jealous ex right now, that fat asshole shouldn't be alone with my Wendy.

Whoops, I think I said that out loud. Kyle's eyes are staring at me in disbelief. "God Dammit, Stan! You need to get over it already! It's been over a year! SHE IS NOT YOUR WENDY. She is with Cartman now. You ARE being a jealous ex and I'm fucking sick of it! Either you shut the hell up or we're leaving!"

"Why are you taking Cartman's side?" I ask, furiously. I know I'm being irrational. Kyle is shaking me now.

"Get a fucking grip, Stan! You are being ridiculous!" I hear him say, uselessly. He calms down and lets go of my shoulders. "I like you way better than that fatass, you know that. It still doesn't change the fact that he is with her right now." His tone is soothing, even though I'm still plenty upset. "Get over it NOW," he adds, bitterly.

I took a minute to think. After a while, I started shaking my head. Then words came out. "No, you know what? She's going to do something she regrets just to piss me off! I can't let her do that. I WON'T!" I say, inconsolable. I pound my feet into the ground and up the stairs, skipping every other one. I watch Kyle bow his head behind me before he takes off in the same direction. I hear him in the background yelling my name. One more step and I stop, dead in my tracks.

In front of me is a closed door. A thick white door with a gold doorknob, leading into Cartman's room. If the music wasn't so loud downstairs, I swear I could hear pants and moans coming from within. I angrily grab hold of the doorknob, twisting it violently. Son-of-a-bitch locked the door. I press my ear up to the cold white paint, and sure enough, I hear a male voice whisper, "Someone is trying to get in!"

Then I hear a female voice respond, "Fuck them. It's probably some random drunk trying to find the bathroom, honey. GO AWAY ASSHOLE!" That's all I need. I pound my fists in a fit of rage so hard I feel the foundation shake. "STOP FUCKING MY GIRLFRIEND, FATASS!" I scream, knowing full well who is really being the ass here. Sometimes when I'm drunk, I can't control my rage. Remind me to look into that.

I'm practically crying as I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me away from the abused door. "STAN, GET A GRIP!" I hear Kyle yell. His voice is a mix of both anger and concern. For some reason, I resist his attempts to pull me away. I'm the stronger of the two of us, but I feel his grasp tightening. "I'm not going to let you do this tonight, Stan! I won't!" he is repeating. I decide to give up.

I whirl around to face Kyle, who stumbles back a few feet after I was freed. Breathing heavily, I looked him straight in the eye. I shake my head and shrug my shoulders, as if signifying I am doing nothing wrong. He just glares at me—his emerald eyes deeply committed to calming me down.

"You need to leave them alone," he mutters under his breath. "You have disturbed them enough. Let them be. Come upstairs with me, we've got to get to you to chill," he coaxes me, trying once more to speak to me rationally. His voice is almost monotonous but comforting.

But I'm not convinced. My eyes grow wide. "You expect me to let them be IN THERE when I know what they are doing?"

Kyle looks deep into my eyes and takes a step forward. Placing his right hand on my shoulder, he replies quietly, "Do you really think that you breaking it up tonight is going to prevent them from doing anything in the future? Stan, they are a couple now and have been for quite some time. And Cartman, whether you like it or not, is your friend. You should be happy for him."

"Happy for him! When he is in _there_ with _my_ girl?" I ask, stupidly.

"Whatever, dude," Kyle grunts, throwing his hands up in the air and taking a step back from me. He is shaking his head too. "You DO realize you are being a selfish, self-centered, irrational, pompous, whining, overprotective, completely insane asshole, don't you?"

I blink at him several times. I can't believe he just said that to me. Deep down, I know its what is needed to be said, but still. Ouch, Kyle.

I sigh. He is right. As usual. I bow my head in defeat. Being a jerk isn't going to get me anywhere. And it's certainly not going to help my relationship with either of them. I probably damaged it a bunch as it is. All I know is that I need to be alone right now. No, I need to have Kyle right there. He always keeps me in tune. He's amazing. Truly a good friend.

He breathes a sigh of relief, as if he knows what he said finally made me crack. "Alright, lets go upstairs for a little while. Kenny's here to hold down the fort. At least, until he finds a girl." I couldn't believe it. Kyle was going to risk our house being smashed in to go upstairs and comfort me. My best friend.

"Alright, fine," I answer, and feel his hand push my back gently toward the direction of his bedroom door.

**---**


	4. The Breakthrough

I'm so hurt! I see that people are reading at least the first chapter of my story. Please PLEASE review, guys! Is this really _that _bad? Lets try to say a thing or to after reading, yes? I want to give a big thanks to IrishGoddess, who, like me, is a new writer…and who keeps supplying me with reviews. Reviews that keep me going! Alright, enough with my usual pleas, on with the story.

Chapter 4- **The Breakthrough**

Comforting Stan had become routine to Kyle. He didn't mind it, because Stan was his best friend, but tonight was ridiculous. He had to lose his cool, and he hated to do that. Kyle enjoyed being known as the laid back one of the group. He used to be so uptight he walked around with knots in his stomach all day long. And Stan used to be the voice of reason. Actually, he still was, most of the time. He hadn't changed much in that respect—he was just a lot lot LOT more jealous and irrational when drunk. And Kyle knew this. Kyle accepted it.

Nothing changed the fact that he would do anything for his best friend. Its hard to imagine such a bond that the two had—they had been inseparable since preschool. There are not too many people like that out in the world. Kyle knew everything about Stan. He loved him for it. He wasn't _in_ love, but he knew that Stan would be his best man at his wedding, his second brother, and his neighbor when they were grumpy old men. He had already planned out his life, leaving ample room in to be around Stan. He felt such a strong bond with the guy. And aside from the events unfolding that night, Stan and Kyle were closer than ever before.

All of these reasons were why Kyle had to be supportive in Stan's dark hour. Why he had to sit by and hear him say some of the most selfish, absurd comments about Wendy and Cartman. Why he had to leave the party temporarily, and risk missing Geneva. Stan came first. Always had, and always will.

Stan was crying now, in his own macho sort of way. He sniffed his nose and wiped his eyes every few seconds so he wouldn't give away how much he was hurting. But Kyle knew. He gently rubbed Stan's back in response.

Stan paused from the sobbing long enough to search the ground for answers. "I just can't seem to get over it, Kyle!" he realized. He was beginning to sober up a bit. "I know deep down that Wendy is not right for me. But it doesn't make it any easier to see her with _Cartman_!" Kyle nodded. "I'm just not sure I'll EVER be over her."

At this, Kyle frowned. Most of the time, Stan didn't even mention Wendy's name. He seemed to be getting over her quite nicely. It was only when he heard about her and Cartman, or he knew that he was going to see her sometime in the future. But Kyle figured that was a normal response to someone you spend six years of your life with. He couldn't relate personally. "Stan, you ARE getting over her. Its only when you see them together." He paused, and then added, "and when you are drunk."

Stan looked into his best friend's eyes. Kyle had the most sincere look of compassion on his face that he had ever seen. It was impossible to stay mad at the situation. He sighed. "I know. Its just weird, you know?"

"Of course it is!" Kyle exclaimed. "She was your girlfriend for forever!" Kyle gazed straight into Stan's deep blue eyes and hushed his tone. "But she isn't anymore. And because of that, I need you to go back downstairs, and forget about those two! So what if they are in his room. There are so many other girls at this party that you haven't even begun to give a chance to that I know personally are just lined up to date you." He situated himself on the couch so that his arms were resting on his knees, and his hand gestures were doing the talking. "Stan, you are an incredible guy, okay? And you know you're hot. There is bound to be someone out there for you that is a thousand times better than Wendy. I want you to find that special someone, and you can't do that if you sulk around all day about your lost love. Its time to stop feeling sorry for yourself, and start looking around you. The possibilities are limitless."

Stan stared at Kyle for a long time without saying anything. He saw a sparkle in Kyle's dazzling green eyes that he had never noticed before. He watched Kyle blink several times, waiting for a response. His face was so close to him that he could have leaned in and bumped his forehead.

"Stan?" Kyle asked, awaiting a reply.

Stan sat motionless, continuing to observe his friend. Kyle looked really good tonight, he thought. He always thought Kyle was a good-looking guy, but tonight, there was something different about him. He was closer to his face than ever before, and Stan zoomed in on some faint freckles placed sporadically on Kyle's cheeks. They were _cute_. He was cute. He was trying so hard to get Stan to rejoin the party, and it was very obvious why he wanted Stan to be over Wendy. Any more obvious, and Stan would have been kissing his best friend right there. Why was this happening? His vision started to blur as he realized he hadn't blinked for quite some time.

Kyle appeared worried and confused. "Stan?" he repeated. "Did you hear anything I just said?" He waved his hand in front of Stan's face to snap him out of it.

That did the trick. Stan blinked and shook his head. "Oh…hey. Yeah, sorry." He had been lost in the moment. _What moment_? he thought to himself "Yeah, I hear you." Kyle was absolutely 100 right, and Stan knew at from that moment on that he would never be able to look at his friend in the same way. Was he trying to tell him something? Stan wasn't sure, but decided to go with the flow. "Yeah, let's go back downstairs. If you want to."

Kyle smiled at Stan. He had accomplished the task of calming him down once again. And this time, he knew he _really _got through to the kid. Excited, he stood up and motioned Stan to do the same. He was little taken aback by the awkward moment they had just had, but let it slide. "Oh wait, dude. If people are going to be here awhile, I'm gonna smoke again. You want to?"

Stan nodded. His buzz was starting to come back, but he needed something else to kick him back up. He hated sobering up before passing out for the night. Pot mixed with alcohol seemed like a good idea to him. "K, let me just go back downstairs to get a drink. We can chill up here for awhile that way," he informed Kyle, who was already packing a bowl for himself. He nodded in concentration, and Stan crept out of the room, not sure if Kyle even knew where he was going.

As he slowly walked down the steps, he took a deep breath before pushing open the attic door. If Cartman's room was still closed, that meant he had to walk past it with no thought. If Cartman's room was empty, that meant he had to make a beeline to the keg before he saw the two lovebirds. He didn't want to get angry again. He had done enough pouting for the night. He opened the door, and subconsciously glared at Cartman's closed door. _They were still at it_. Wow. Stan could have sworn that he and Wendy never lasted that long together. He sighed. Maybe she IS better off…

He rushed past the forbidden door, trying hard to look at the other side of the hallway. He noticed that the bathroom door was shut tight too. Nobody was allowed upstairs, so he figured it was probably either Kenny or Paul. When he heard moans of ecstasy inside, he concluded that it had to be Kenny. He smiled and shook his head at the thought of his friend getting lucky in HIS bathroom. At least it wasn't HIS bedroom. He would have been pissed. But no, Kenny was a decent enough guy to know that it was off limits. He was just a whore.

Stan had to admit that sometimes even HE was jealous of Kenny and his ability to have girl after girl fall all over him. He had decided long ago that Kenny was very attractive—it was impossible not to notice. Kenny had always been good looking. Even when Stan and Wendy were in the peak of their relationship, she reminded him "how much of a hottie" Kenny was. Stan was angered by her casual remarks about his good friend, but she never seemed too serious in exploring that option. No, it was Cartman who she wished to be with all along.

Go figure.

No! Stan said to himself. I'm not going to think about her now. All he wanted to do was grab a beer and head back upstairs, where Kyle would be waiting for him. Kyle. His new obsession. He realized this about five minutes ago, and couldn't shake the feeling that was in the pit of his stomach. He had never looked at Kyle in any way other than his best friend. At least, he didn't think so…

Memories of his friend danced around in his mind as he made his way to the crowded keg. The party was still going strong, though some people were beginning to look increasingly tired. He looked at his watch. 1:19. He hadn't expected time to fly by so soon. He looked around the party to check out these so-called girls that were lined up to meet him. No one seemed to even care he was there. Stan smiled to himself, thinking that maybe these "girls" were really a metaphor for the one who has loved him all along. Could it be true? Did Kyle care more for him than what he led Stan to believe?

Stan finally reached the keg, pushing aside some random drunk girl who looked like she was going to fall on top of it. He didn't want to be around any of these childish imbeciles. It all made sense to him as he picked up a cup and filled it to the brim. It was a little foamy; signs that the keg was about dry. Here he had been spending his entire life with this guy whom he loved dearly, and he had never once thought that maybe there is something more there than just friendship. Maybe he was in love… Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he was just really, really drunk. Whatever it was, it caused Stan to smile at this thought. It made perfect sense.

He dodged the oncoming beer goers to retreat back upstairs. Back to him. It was only when he had shut the attic door and was ascending the steps that he realized he hadn't even looked (or cared) to see if Cartman's door was still closed. He had just blown right past it, eager to be near Kyle.

Kyle fumbled with a silver and green lighter. Stan had just sat down beside him, rather close he noticed, and leaned back into the couch. He had a cup of beer in one hand, and rested the other on his leg nearest to Kyle. Kyle leaned back beside him and lit up. Stan watched his friend as he inhaled all he could, holding it in for a few moments, and then gracefully breathing out the remaining smoke. He sat back with closed eyes and handed the bowl over to Stan. He took a big gulp of the still foamy beer before sitting it on the end table and accepting Kyle's gift. He too took in a big gulp of smoke before not-so-gracefully coughing it back out. He wasn't quite as skilled as Kyle. He looked over at his friend, who still had his eyes closed. Stan watched Kyle's lips curl up into a slight smile, and he breathed out. Stan wondered what he was thinking about.

"Dude, what are you thinking about?" he decided to ask.

Kyle's smile faded as he opened his eyes and looked back at Stan. He looked more than a little nervous. "Nothing," he replied hastily, shifting his positioning on the couch.

Stan raised his eyebrows. What was that about? He was already feeling the effects of Kyle's "special" weed. He handed the bowl back over to Kyle, and Kyle took another hit. A few minutes later, he took one more.

What seemed like hours later, Stan had lost track of how many hits he had taken. He knew it had to have been quite a few, because for every one Stan took, Kyle took twice that. And Stan was so completely high that he felt like he was floating. The room became increasingly three-dimensional. He peered over at Kyle, who was looking straight into his eyes. Whoa!

Awkward silence followed.

Eventually, Kyle was the first to speak. "Hey we should probably get back downstairs," he casually mentioned. Stan knew he was just saying it. He knew Kyle didn't want to go anywhere.

"Yeah alright," Stan replied, equally indifferent. He waited for Kyle to make the first move. There was another awkward silence as Stan sat still, waiting for his friend to get up first. They looked intently into each other's eyes, contemplating each other's thoughts. A few moments later, Kyle let out a sort of half smile and picked himself up off the couch.

He could definitely hear the party still raging downstairs as he treaded down the attic stairs. It had to be well past 2, he thought, and casually opened the thick base door. It creaked open, as if it had been barred shut for a thousand years. He could hear it above the music. He also heard giggles coming from the door to his left: Cartman's room. Still shut tight. Boy, Cartman would be bragging tomorrow. Kyle was about to nonchalantly pass the closed bathroom door when all of the sudden, someone opened the door. He smiled to himself when Kenny walked out, all dismantled and hair disheveled. His smile quickly faded when he watched Kenny's prey peek around the corner before leaving the same room. It was Geneva. She hadn't straightened herself up at all—they definitely had just had sex. Her hair was clearly in tangles, her shirt wrinkled and not even laying properly over her chest, and she leaned over to slip on one of her black heels when she caught sight of him. Kyle. The boy that she originally came to the party to see.

He could feel himself stop in mid-step, gaping at the pitiful excuse of a woman. His jaw dropped open, and he could feel his eyes start to water. His expression was cold and unforgiving. It took Kenny a minute to realize that Geneva, too, had stopped in her tracks, staring back at Kyle with a terrified deer-caught-in-headlights look plastered all over her face. He watched Kyle burn a hole through her eyes. Something was not right here.

Stan detected it too. Kyle's expression was too much for him. He was almost scared of the boy for the first time in his life. Suddenly, his expression softened, melting away to expose Kyle's apparent hurt. He immediately felt sorry for the guy. If he had known that Kenny was in there with a girl that Kyle possibly liked, he would have broken down the door. He didn't want his best friend to hurt. Hell, he knew Kenny wouldn't have gone in there in the first place. Why didn't Kyle tell anyone? Stan remained motionless, waiting for someone to break the tension.

"Kyle…I…" Geneva started. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his. Kenny's expression had turned to concern.

"Dude," he began. "If I would have known…"

Kyle shifted his focus to Kenny, narrowing his eyes a bit. "If you would have known," he muttered. "Why don't you try NOT fucking every girl in sight for once, Kenny?" Stan blinked twice at the out-of-character remark Kyle had just made. Was he really that mad when he was just hitting on Stan a few minutes before?

Kenny appeared hurt, but let it slide. "I'm sorry, man. I honestly didn't know."

Kyle glared at him. "Did she really mean anything to you? Or was she just another notch in your belt?" He was getting personal.

"Hey, dude. I'm sorry!" Kenny said, fighting the urge to throw insults back. He knew he was a bit easy, but he would never betray his friends like that. "You didn't tell me…You didn't tell me anything!"

Geneva was still staring at Kyle, waiting for his next move.

Kyle nodded once. "You're right, Kenny. Go downstairs. This does not concern you."

Kenny breathed a sigh of relief and did as he was told. Stan stood a few feet away from Kyle, petrified to move. Kyle had probably forgotten he was there.

"Now…YOU!" Kyle stated, returning his attention to the scared girl. His eyes narrowed even more, and he could feel his body temperature rise. "You SLUT!" he roared. She stood paralyzed. "What the hell were you doing with one of my BEST friends? Did you even stop to think about what this would do to ME!"

"I…I…"

"You WHAT! Why did you even come here? Was it to fuck a complete stranger? Cause you could have done that anywhere!" Kyle screamed, fighting back the tears. He moved in towards her as he spoke, flailing his arms about wildly. His voice lowered and he stood nearly a foot away from her. "Why did you have to come HERE to do it? Why did you have to show up at MY party to sleep with another guy?"

She was at such a loss for words, she began to cry. Uncontrollably.

"NOTHING you say can ever make me respect you ever again. You are a slut, and I don't feel sorry for you. Stop crying," he commanded. Stan had never seen his friend throw so many cruel words to someone so helpless and pathetic.

After a few minutes of Kyle watching her intently, Geneva gathered up enough strength to stop crying. "I'm so sorry, Kyle," was all she could muster. "I really am." For some odd reason, she appeared genuinely heartbroken. Kyle was a rock, though. His expression had turned cold once again, not revealing much emotion except for the harsh tone in his booming voice.

"Goodbye, Geneva," he said, detached

And with that, she walked quietly, almost jogging, to flee the terrible scene. He watched as she disappeared around the corner, and he heard the back door slam. _Good riddens_, he thought. Stan had been passive, almost too afraid to make a move in fear that Kyle would blow up on him. But when he saw the tenseness out of Kyle's shoulders leave, Stan hurried over and put a supporting hand on his back. "Dude," he said, appropriately. He felt Kyle jump at his touch—probably forgetting that he was there.

"I have a head ache," Kyle said, and without warning, disappeared into the bathroom.

When he came out, Stan was still in the same position. He walked over to Stan and stood extremely close. Stan could feel his hot breath on his face. "I want everyone out. I need peace and quiet," he muttered. Stan nodded, and went downstairs to start the process of kicking everyone out. He had to be there for Kyle, as Kyle had been there for him.

---

Kenny felt sick as he trudged down the stairs. He hadn't wanted to cause any trouble—it wasn't his intention. He thought long and hard to recall the previous events of that night, trying to remember if Geneva had mentioned _anything_ about the possibility of her and Kyle. His mind drew a blank. He had pretty much sobered up by that point, and all he wanted to do was play the new Playstation game he had noticed before the party had even started. It was still in its package. He didn't care what it was; he just wanted to forget the recent past.

The last thing Kenny wanted to be known as was a careless sexaholic. Sure, he enjoyed a good lay every now and then. Okay, more like every now. But he knew it and his friends should have known that he would NEVER jeopardize a friendship for some chick. It wasn't his style, and he disliked that Kyle had actually thought that.

It was one thing to rag on him for being poor, or being a ladies man, or being completely obsessed with video games…but to insult his integrity? Kenny was an upstanding friend, and his loyalty throughout the years is what made him such a great guy. He was hoping Kyle would apologize to him the next day.

In a flash, he watched Geneva run down the stairs and fly out the backdoor. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy. It was obvious that she had made a mistake, but from the looks of it, Kyle wasn't going to let her live it down. Kenny just prayed that Kyle wished to be alone, rather than wait until no witnesses were present to bestow his wrath upon the Casanova. He plopped himself down on the couch, observing the party around him. Everyone was clueless as to the dramatic events that were unfolding around them, and for once, he wished he was some stupid drunk asshole that didn't give a shit about friends or life.

But that wasn't who Kenny McCormick was. He vowed to never become like that. To never become like his father.

He let out a long sigh and sunk into the comforts of the black leather couch. A guy was tongue wrestling with some poor innocent girl right beside him, and she looked desperate for air. Her face was ridden with slobbers. Oh, how he longed to teach the world of men how to treat a woman right. At least, make her _feel_ right. His gaze was diverted to two obviously drunk girls at the now taken-over beer pong table. They looked so completely wasted, he thought, and smiled to himself. He didn't like to take advantage of girls like that. Yet, sure enough, two boys were pounding their fists on the table in an attempt to get the girls to take off their tops. Two minutes later, they gave in, and Kenny smiled in satisfaction.

He loved the female body since before he could remember. He was seven years old when he had stumbled upon his dad's stack of Playboys. And though it meant nothing to him at the time, he had been obsessed with breasts ever since. He bought his first porno when he was only eleven years old from a shady street character that needed twenty bucks. Kenny started up his personal collection when he was sixteen, taping over half of his partners and him in the act. One day, he would sell them for money.

His friends knew what a pervert he was, and at times, he got the feeling they kind of liked it. Especially Stan. It was a weird thought, but Kenny would make random comments or sometimes even grab Stan, and he would get the distinct feeling the kid was checking him out. It didn't bother him, though. If he _were_ going to ever do it with a guy, Stan would probably be the best specimen. Not only was he a close friend, but he also had the looks to match Kenny's. Almost…

Stan was, in fact, hot. He had this jet-black hair that shined in just the right light. Throughout the years, he had experimented with styles, but he eventually settled upon a style similar to when he was littler, only with sideburns. His eyes only seemed to darken into deeper blue as the years passed, which made him appear just about as exotic as that Geneva girl. His olive-toned skin was a beautiful compliment to his striking features, and he by far had the best muscular build of any of Kenny's friends. He wasn't at all bulky, but his athletic body was always toned. He was just below 6', which made him the second tallest of the group.

Kenny smiled to himself, thinking about his friends. Cartman was the second shortest, registering in at a 5' 10'' stature, and probably around 230 pounds. It worked out perfectly since Wendy was above average girl height. Kenny closed his eyes and began to picture Wendy naked, as Cartman was probably seeing right now. His thoughts turned sour when he pictured a naked Cartman, suddenly getting the urge to vomit.

Kyle was the tallest of the group, surpassing 6' by a few inches. His curly red hair made him appear even taller, but Kenny liked it. Kyle was tall and skinny. Kenny was short and skinny. He wasn't much shorter than Cartman, but short enough that Cartman liked to make short jokes, in ADDITION to poor ones. He shook his head. No matter which way he looked at it, Cartman was still an asshole.

"Hey, Kyle wants this party cleared out," Stan said, interrupting Kenny's thoughts. "Will you help me?" Kenny looked into Stan's thoughtful eyes and nodded.

"Sure, dude," he replied. "Hey, is Kyle going to be okay?"

"I think so. He said he has a headache and wants everyone out. He says he wants to be alone, but I think I'm going to keep him company for a while. You know, cheer him up," Stan explained, in a pathetic attempt to cover why he really wanted to stay by Kyle. Kenny figured out a long time ago that Stan thought Kyle was great…in more ways than your run-of-the-mill friend. That's why it was so easy picturing Stan being the one to stick it to. He just wasn't sure if Stan had figured it out for himself yet.

"Alright, I'll let you two be alone then," Kenny smirked, knowing full well Stan didn't catch his perverted undertones. Stan just nodded gratefully, and pulled Kenny up off the couch.

They made their way over to the blasting stereo, and in one swift motion, Stan unplugged the cord from the wall. He knew that would get everyone's attention. Sure enough, a field of disgruntled faces and angry drunk people started to throw a fit.

"What the fuck!" Kenny heard someone yell. It was obvious that no one was going to leave peacefully.

"HEY GUYS!" Kenny yelled, attempting to make this situation much easier. "We just saw the cops patrolling outside, and I saw them stop right by THIS house!"

Sure enough, this was enough to cause a widespread panic, as most of the party was under legal drinking age. A few guys lighting up a joint in a secluded corner froze in shock. And before Kenny or Stan could say anymore, the living room, kitchen, back room, EVERYTHING…it was empty.

Stan chuckled. "Dude, you've done this before!" he noted. He slapped Kenny on the back in approval, and lowered himself to the couch.

Wow. Kenny looked around at the nothingness before he sighed in relief and took a seat beside him. They both surveyed the damage the party had caused. Beer cups were everywhere, most of them half full. The beer pong table looked like someone had thrown up on and around it, and for some reason, there were a bunch of dirty streamers matted down to the hardwood floor. The stench of beer rose within Kenny's nostrils, and he looked over at Stan. "Dude, this is going to suck big time," he acknowledged, waiting for Stan's response. Stan simply sighed.

The two sat in silence.

"Well, I'm going to go check on Kyle," Stan spoke, reluctant to break the peace and quiet. He sat up and leaned forward, toward the direction of the TV. "I'm not cleaning any of this shit up tonight, but you are more than welcomed to crash on the couch if you want. We bought a new game," he said thoughtfully, noticing Kenny's interested stare. "You can play it if you want."

"Hell yeah I want to!" Kenny energetically exclaimed. "Night, dude!" he said to Stan, who was already on his way upstairs to comfort his 'friend.' Kenny wondered if Kyle felt the same way about Stan, as he knew Stan felt about Kyle.

**---**


	5. Set Me Free

I was going to wait awhile to post this chapter, but I'm just too excited! Again, I included a graphic scene, FAIR WARNING. I really like this chapter, and I hope you guys do too! Without further adieu...

Chapter 5- **Set Me Free**

Wendy intertwined her legs with Eric's, and brushed back his sticky hair that was matted to his sweaty forehead. He let out an exhausted sigh and draped his arm around her shoulders. "Wow," was all he could manage. His heart was beating rapidly, and his breaths had just now begun to steady.

"Wendy, you are amazing. I love you so much," he gushed. He realized he had never said that outwardly before. He hoped she wouldn't be too upset that it was after they…He didn't feel that way because she was great in bed (even though she was breathtaking). He truly felt it, and had felt it for quite some time now.

Wendy's eyes beamed and she smiled so big Eric could see all of her perfect, white teeth. "I love you too, Eric!" she exclaimed. Even when she was dripping with sweat and her hair was a mess, he still thought she was the most beautiful sight on the face of this earth. He was overcome with emotion as he leaned in to gently kiss her forehead.

Eric Cartman could hardly believe what had just happened to him. After he heard Stan attempting to bust down the door, he thought for certain he wouldn't be able to get Wendy to calm down enough to finish what she had brought him up there to do. It wasn't that he wasn't upset—he was furious for the bastard ruining their moment. But for the first time in his life, he understood why Stan couldn't get over Wendy Testaburger. She was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him. Cartman was still in shock that she picked him over Stan.

He could hear fighting once more in the hall. This time, it was between a girl and Kyle. He didn't really pay too much attention to the words. As long as Wendy was by his side, nothing else seemed to matter. He felt her tense up with anger again. It was amusing to him that she got upset so easily. Even easier than he did. They were the perfect match. Cartman usually was the one to calm down his irate girlfriend. This time, he just stroked her hair lovingly and looked into her eyes. This was the first he had been able to see how she felt after they had messed around. The lights were still on.

Cartman playfully pulled the sheets off of Wendy, exposing her nude flesh once again. God, how he loved to admire her. He was naked too, and she hadn't once showed signs of disgust. She hadn't even flinched at the sight of him, which was more than he could say about himself. He didn't like the way he looked compared to his perfect package of a girlfriend. But then again, it seemed like she really didn't mind. He wasn't about to become openly self-conscious around her.

"Hey, Wendy, can I ask you a question?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"Sure, baby," she replied after waiting a bit for him to continue, but noticing he was awaiting her approval.

"What do you like about me?" he wondered aloud. Okay, so maybe this openly self-conscious idea was going to happen anyway.

Wendy crinkled her nose and smiled warmly. "Eric, you don't need to ask me these kinds of questions. I love you, I will always love you. You are the man I want to be with. Does it really matter why I feel this way?"

Eric half smiled. "Continue…" he spoke softly, wanting to hear more great things about himself.

Wendy let out a half-annoyed, half-teasing sigh. "You just want to hear me gloat about you." She leaned in closer. "Which I will. To all of my friends, you just wait. You're going to be the best boyfriend when I get done with my stories. And you are _my_ boyfriend."

Cartman chuckled to himself. He got a kick out of Wendy's constant competition with the rest of the world to have the best possessions, whether material or personal. "I am definitely your boyfriend. Now and forever." He liked that word, boyfriend. He kissed her lightly and then settled his head into middle of the pillow. She repositioned herself so that she was lying on his exposed chest. She gently caressed it back and forth with her fingertips.

"And just so you know," she began. "I love you because _you_ are the best thing that's ever happened to me"

Eric smiled in satisfaction, once more tightening his grip around her shoulders. They interlaced fingers and began to kiss each other heatedly again.

"You wanna go for round two?" she asked, casually, with an ever-so-slight hint of mischief in her eyes. "This time, I'm going to make _you_ scream out _my_ name."

And, before Cartman had a chance to respond, Wendy pounced on him like a tiger feeding on its prey.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm so sorry, Kyle," Stan managed to say, after what seemed like an eternity sitting with the quiet boy. It had probably only been about thirty minutes or so. He knew that Kyle needed quiet—Stan was there for moral support.

He noticed Kyle increasingly start to twitch and blink his eyes. "Hey, whatever. I'm over her, she was a slut anyway." He paused. "I just thought I saw more in this one." He looked over at Stan, who nodded thoughtfully in response. He wasn't sure what was going on, but his whole body was starting to feel heated. He blinked his eyes once more to shake off the blurry vision that had recently overcome him.

Stan noticed Kyle's odd behavior. "Dude, you okay?" he inquired in concern. "You don't look too hot." That was a lie. Kyle was looking hotter than ever, and Stan was overrun with this new emotion. As he sat next to his best friend, he took note that the guy didn't seem too brokenhearted over the girl's betrayal. He wondered if this had something to do with the possibility that Kyle felt something more for Stan than how he acted. He wasn't sure, but he knew that his own emotions were playing games with his heart. He looked over at Kyle, who was continually zoning out, licking his lips, and readjusting his position on the couch more and more often. He couldn't help but think Kyle felt the same way, and, like him, was unsure of what to do next.

For the first time in his life, Stan really felt like he was thinking clearly. He felt as though his mind had been set free. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs how he felt—that he was falling for his best friend. It was a strange feeling, yet, so completely comforting he found himself scooting closer to Kyle's side. Suddenly, the urge to reach over and capture Kyle in a passionate kiss swept through his mind.

_Whoa_, he thought. Never before had he ever conjured up such an image in his mind. And yet, the more he thought about the situation, the happier he felt. He let out a deep breath and clenched his butt cheeks—the way you do when you start to feel aroused. His slight pelvis thrusting action was enough to gain Kyle's attention.

"What's wrong with you?" he questioned, innocently. Kyle too had started to feel a bit aroused, due to no thoughts, but just this warm sensation that had spread over his body.

Stan closed his eyes. He pictured Kyle straddling his legs, hunched over, placing a trail of kisses from his neck to his mouth. This image brought him great happiness—something he hadn't felt in such a long time. _Why haven't I noticed this before_? he wondered.

Stan was a man of reputation. He knew that his decisions that night could affect his popularity within his classes, within the team, and within his social group. He wasn't sure how the other jocks would respond to having a gay teammate, and shuddered at their expected reactions. He didn't know if they would ever adjust to it, or if he would be doomed an outcast forever. He didn't like the sound of that. But there sat Kyle, his beloved friend. And he couldn't fight this temptation he had to rip off Kyle's shirt and make him forget all about his troubles. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that his life would never be the same after that moment, no matter what the outcome.

Even if he and Kyle never shared anything intimate, Stan knew this feeling wasn't going to go away. Hell, it had been two or three hours, tops, and it was already ten times stronger than when he realized it. How long had he felt this way? How long was he covering it up? He gasped. Did anyone else know about it! He thought back to the times that he and Kyle were together, alone. Did Kyle know it? He shuddered at the thought of Cartman finding out, ESPECIALLY after just sleeping with Wendy.

Kenny. Kenny knew. Kenny was always inconspicuously harassing Stan, making perverted comments or touching him inappropriately. Kenny always knew. That's what he meant in giving Stan and Kyle some 'alone time.' Stan smiled to himself. Kenny really was a good friend. He didn't care that one of his friends was turning out to be a closet homosexual.

Stan opened his eyes at that thought. A _homosexual_. Sure, Cartman joked around throughout school about Stan being a fag, but he didn't take it to heart. Had Cartman been right all along?

"Stan!" Kyle shouted, alarmingly, interrupting Stan's further thought. "Dude, seriously! What's wrong?"

Stan looked over at his friend. This look of pure horror encompassed his face, and Stan let out a nervous laugh. "I'm fine. Wow, Ky, calm down!" The truth was…he wasn't fine. He wanted to tell Kyle how he felt about him. Stan wasn't one to delay. He knew that if Kyle were with him through all of the mess, it really wouldn't seem like such a mess anymore.

"I can't…calm…down," Kyle stuttered. Stan peered down at his hands, which were rapidly shaking. It was as if he had taken a giant caffeine pill.

"Jesus, you look like Tweek!" Stan observed, concerned for his friend.

"I feel…I feel…Ifeel…." was all Kyle could reply. "I feel INCREDIBLE," he burst, abruptly sitting to a stick-straight upright position. "Amazing, Stan. What the hell is going on with me?" He turned to Stan, who was staring wide-eyed at his friend's strange behavior. Kyle looked seductively at Stan. It sent a chill down his back.

"I…I don't know, dude." Stan was speechless. He watched Kyle in wonder. Oh, how he wanted to kiss those pouty lips…

"Stan?" Kyle asked, turning his body so that it was completely facing Stan. He propped one of his legs onto the couch, and let his hands rest in his lap. He had stopped shaking, and was now completely motionless. "Why is it that you are always here with me? I'm sure you have better things to do than sit around and hang out with my boring self."

Stan smiled. _This is it_, he thought. "You know there's no one I'd rather spend my time with," he responded, quietly.

At this, Kyle frowned. "You mean to tell me I'm the best that you've got?" His smile returned. His bright green eyes gazed soulfully into Stan's deep blue ones. "Then, I'd say you lead a sad, sad life, dude."

Stan smiled brighter. _Oh Kyle_, he said to himself. He placed one hand on top of Kyle's folded hands in his lap. Kyle twitched once, and then resumed his super-mellow body motion. "Ky, that's not true, and you know it. I love spending time with you." He paused, unsure of how to sum up this semi-declaration. "You're my best friend."

Kyle scrunched his nose up. "Yeah I guess. But I'm a reject. You don't need to feel sorry for me and stay up here. If you got somewhere else to be…then go there. I'll be fine."

Stan griped the hands beneath his. This send shivers down his spine. Even touching Kyle's hands was eternal bliss, much less squeezing them. He felt Kyle squeeze back. "Dude, I'm not leaving you up here by yourself. I don't want to be anywhere else but here."

Kyle stared at him with an expression Stan couldn't quite decode.

"With me?" he asked quietly. So quietly, Stan melted at the sound of his timid voice.

"With you," Stan repeated. He moved his hand that was atop of Kyle's, and ran it up to his face. It met his soft, warm cheek, and Kyle blushed. Stan lovingly stroked the side of Kyle's face, every so often sliding his hand back and playing with his short auburn curls. "You're incredible, Kyle," he breathed, moving in to close the gap between them.

Kyle remained expressionless, but slowly moved in as well. Their lips met halfway in a soft and timid kiss. Stan sunk into the moment, passionately pressing against Kyle's lips harder. Kyle pulled away, breathless. "Whoa," he muttered, just in time to be met again by Stan's hungry lips.

Stan scooted closer to Kyle on the couch, keeping in constant contact with his mouth. His kisses were slow and gentle at first, but as Kyle seemed to relax a bit, he felt himself lose all willpower. His knees felt weak as Kyle returned his kisses with ever-growing force. He wrapped both of his arms around Kyle's body, wanting to move slow and take things right. _Too late._

Kyle was pushing his entire body up against Stan, in an effort to show him how much he wanted this. Stan took this as a hint to overpower Kyle, as he forced his body weight onto him, pushing him down into the couch. Their hands met halfway, and Stan was caressing his palms lovingly. Kyle went down without protest.

Stan slipped his tongue into Kyle's mouth, massaging Kyle's tongue with sweet, needy kisses. He could feel himself getting aroused, and he decided that he wanted nothing more than to have Kyle right then. With their fingers interlaced and exploring each other's hands, they soon became entangled in a web together, Stan staying cautious to not squash his love underneath. Kyle would pause every few minutes and look up to the ceiling to adjust his vision, as it had grown intensely blurry. Stan took this opportunity to send baby kisses up and down Kyle's neck, to which he moaned in pleasure. Stan slowly moved his hands from Kyle's up to his neck, where he turned Kyle's face away and began nibbling on his ear. He could feel the redhead tense up, and something underneath him started to grow. He could feel Kyle arch his back and thrust his pelvis onto his, which made Stan cry out, "Oh Kyle!" in short gasps.

Stan looked into his eyes. There appeared some sort of confusion trapped behind the glossy film that had formed. It was as if he hadn't blinked in several hours. Yet he was blinking every five seconds. When his eyes weren't rolled in the back of his head or closed in delight.

Stan could hear Kyle groan every few seconds, and his breath start to quicken. From the sounds of it, Stan was giving him the most pleasure he's had in a long time. And he hadn't even begun…

Suddenly, Kyle fought back the power that Stan had on top of him. They wrestled for a few minutes, Stan resuming grip on Kyle's hands, rendering him helpless beneath the blue-eyed boy. Kyle cried out in either pain or pleasure, or maybe a mixture of both. He hastily began sucking on Stan's lower lip, biting it with force. Stan liked this playful side to Kyle, and returned the favor by pulling Kyle up into an upright position.

The two boys' tongues danced around each other's mouths, Stan pulling himself so close to Kyle he could feel his friend's heart pound through his shirt. He saw a bead of sweat run down Kyle's forehead, as he took the time to pull away for a breath. It was then that Kyle pushed Stan down to the other side of the couch, kissing him rapidly, with his body weight lingering on top of Stan's. Stan was surprised with this sudden turn-of-the-tables, and of course, was even more turned on. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh Kyle," he groaned again, this time in the redhead's ear. "Fuck Kyle, I'm so hot right now." He pressed his pelvis into Kyle, so that he could feel what Stan was talking about. At this, Kyle pulled back, his eyes closed, smiling a faint smile. Stan adjusted his vision long enough to see that beautiful smile of his fade…Stan reached for the buttons on his companion's shirt. Unbuttoning them all at once, he stared in awe at Kyle's surprisingly chiseled chest. Sweat glistened from it, creating the illusion that it was glowing. Stan ran his fingers from Kyle's neck down to the trim of his pants. He brushed past the obvious hard on that Kyle had obtained throughout the process and grabbed his ass firmly. Kyle was looming over him, his open shirt forming a protective shield from the rest of the room. Stan was in heaven.

He had never before experienced the sensation he was feeling at that moment. It was this life-changing event that made Stan utter those three little words, "I want you."

And for a moment, he saw a gleam in Kyle's eyes—one that understood what Stan had just said. One that wanted what only Stan had dreamt about.

Kyle peeled Stan off of the couch, pulling him up to eye level. Without so much as a word, Kyle stood up, waiting for Stan to do the same. He had blinked so many times, Stan thought he was tripping off of some insanely potent weed, but he hadn't smoked any recently. This was Kyle. Kyle wanted him. He felt the same way. He didn't need to say anything. That glossy stare he gave Stan was more than enough. He slowly followed Kyle to the bedroom, where Stan shut the door.

---

"I love you," Stan whispered, in between pants of pure ecstasy and short, wild breaths. His heart had begun to race rapidly as Kyle pulled his shirt off and they were touching, skin to skin. Their fingers had once again interlaced with one another, and Kyle's sweat had mixed with some of Stan's. It didn't bother him that Kyle wasn't saying anything in return. He didn't have to. His body language was saying it all. Stan felt warm, aggressive kisses all over his neck and chest, slowly working their way back up to his mouth. Kyle was an amazing kisser. _I could really get used to this_, he thought.

Stan had never thought of himself as timid before, but as his best friend lay on top of him, weighing _him_ down, he was the most passive he had ever been. And he liked this role. He wasn't the dominating one. Kyle had always been the ONLY person able to calm him down when he went into one of his rage fits. And here it was, Kyle was the only one to pin him down with his delectable kisses. Even Wendy couldn't stay on top for long. Stan always needed that power. There was something about Kyle that made him…strong. Strong in the sense that he could do whatever he wanted to Stan, and Stan wouldn't protest. He could take over their sex life and tie Stan up with belts while having his way with him…he wouldn't mind.

Just then, he heard a grunt escape Kyle's lips. He was still on top, still smothering Stan with his kisses, but he was reaching down now for the button on Stan's jeans. Fumbling around for a bit, Stan let his own hands wonder down there to help out his struggling friend. It was as if Kyle had a goal in mind, but his mind was so fogged over, he couldn't figure out how to complete it. _Snap!_ The button unbuttoned, and Kyle speedily pulled down the zipper. Stan lifted his lower body just enough so that they could together pull off his jeans. He lay clad in his boxers, a boner the size of Mt. Everest.

He had decided he had enough. Allowing Kyle to be the dominant one was one thing, but letting him have all the fun? Stan reached for his partner's pants button, freeing it with ease. Kyle pressed his hips into Stan, and Stan cried out in bliss. Kyle was just as ready to go as he was, and Stan wished nothing more than to please his love. He effortlessly flipped Kyle onto the mattress, pulling his pants down and off the bed. Stan grew bigger lying on top, but ignored his wants for once and focused all of his attention on the beaming redhead. His tongue probed Kyle's mouth, slowly making its way further down. Kissing a trail all the way down. When he reached the line where the boxers met the skin, he delicately inched them down, only to receive a strong shudder from the receiving end. He glanced up at Kyle to make sure he was okay, but Kyle was lost in his own world.

Stan went on with his plan, gently removing Kyle's boxers from the shivering guy. Stan fell silent, kissing around the freshly exposed skin. He placed one hand on the shaft and began moving up and down to which Kyle released a loud moan of approval. His hands shot out for Stan's hair, holding his head in place as Stan's mouth engulfed the hardened member. It wasn't but a few minutes until Kyle tensed up, allowing only shallow breaths to escape. He became lifeless, with eyes closed and a continued smile.

Stan peered up at Kyle, who looked so peaceful he thought he was asleep. Stan hoped he wasn't, for he still had unfinished business. He cleaned up the residue that formed around Kyle's body with a nearby towel, and crept up the bed to take a look. Sure enough, Kyle's eyes were closed in a peaceful slumber. It was as if all his energy exploded the minute of his release. He tasted so good, Stan thought, as he placed an innocent kiss on his best friend's still lips. Kyle twitched and returned the kiss, failing to ever open his eyes. His body remained sprawled out on the bed in the position he fell back into as Stan attempted to rid himself of all the tension built up that night. He too finished in a few minutes, unable to hold in much longer. He collapsed in a heap next to Kyle, his head resting on Kyle's shoulder.

---

A small break in the dark green blinds emitted a single ray of sunlight into the room, casting a beam right onto his face. He opened his eyes, after much hesitation, and attempted to adjust to the blinding light. His head was pounding, and his mouth was cotton dry. Sweat had plastered him to the position he lay in on the bed. He was uncomfortable in this position. Something was wrong.

He felt a breeze near him, even though there was not a window open or a fan in sight. Glancing downwards, he noticed that he was without clothes, and the draft must have come from the chilled air around him. He took a deep breath and continually blinked his eyes, trying to focus.

"What happened?" he said to himself, rising in the bed and placing his hand on his forehead. He felt as though he had been sleeping for decades, but it wasn't his normal 'coming down' after he was high sleep. No, this was different. This was scarier. He desperately tried to swallow, finding that his tongue got stuck in the back of his parched throat. He needed water…

It was still dark in the room, but Kyle felt another presence along with him. It sent a shiver down his spine as he realized he had no recollection of how that person got up there. All he remembered was calming Stan down, going downstairs…and finding Geneva with Kenny. Oh yes, the memories started to flood. He had had a headache. Stan had gotten rid of the guests. He had went back up to his room. What had happened next?

He concentrated hard on the figure that was lying next to him. It was curled up into a ball, back facing him. He strained his eyes harder to make out the silhouette when…

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed, jumping back a few feet to the opposite side of the bed. Was it really who he thought it was? Was _Stan_ really lying in _his_ bed, wearing only his boxers? Was Kyle really naked? Had they really…

"OH MY GOD!" he silently screamed, and almost instantly dry heaved. He scrambled off the bed, reaching for his clothes, and darted out of the room into the confinement of another room. One without his sleeping best friend. He fell to the couch, his head in his lap, and his hands on his forehead. "Oh My God, what the hell did I do?" he kept asking himself in various forms, trying hard to recall the slightest of memory. It all came down to…he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to _know_ what had just taken place in that bedroom, because if he did, then he would have to confront Stan with all of those memories dancing around in the back of his head. Oh, how he wished he hadn't left the party last night. It could have been Geneva sleeping in that bed instead of…Stan….

The very thought of doing anything with his friend made him gag. He liked Stan, sure, but NEVER did he EVER want to _be_ with him. That was never even a question. He had once wrestled with the thought that Stan might be gay, just the way he acted sometimes, but he erased that thought when the miserable boy wouldn't get over his ex girlfriend. Now, he was trudging some unknown territory, and he would _have_ to find out if Stan was gay, or if he too had fucked up. This wasn't going to be an easy day.

Hell, this wasn't going to be an easy year. Having to live with someone when you have done…stuff…with them is so hard, ESPECIALLY when it is two best friends. He didn't want to resent Stan, but _how could have he let him do this_? Was Stan really that drunk? Or did he want to do it?

WHAT DID THEY DO? Kyle was breathless, racking his brain for any possible answers. Had they gulp had sex?

God, he hoped not. He wouldn't be able to look at Stan after that. He thought for a minute. Stan wasn't naked. So that couldn't have happened. Unless Stan had his way with Kyle, and then put his boxers on before passing out. Oh God Oh God Oh God, _what did we do_?

"Hey you," came a soft voice from the direction of the bedroom. Stan had woken up, and was scratching the back of his head. He had severe after-sex hair. _Oh God_…

Kyle averted his gaze from the still-sleepy black haired boy in the boxers. "Hi," his dry throat managed to choke out.

Stan sat next to Kyle on the suddenly tiny couch. He leaned over and kissed Kyle on the cheek, causing Kyle to stiffen his body.

"I was hoping you wouldn't wake until after me. I wanted to make you breakfast in bed," Stan said shyly. Kyle refused to look at him. He could feel Stan's soft gaze burning a hole through his side. It was driving him crazy. How much more could he take? He had to know what happened.

Stan sensed his uneasiness, and took the liberty of draping his arm around Kyle's shoulders, massaging one of them. "You passed out so suddenly last night, I didn't get a chance to thank you," he spoke so warmly. It made Kyle want to hurl. _Thank me for what_?

It was as if Stan read his mind. "Kyle, I haven't been honest with myself for quite some time, and I found this out last night. I love that we can be completely open with each other now." He turned to face Kyle, who still avoided his deep blue stare. "I love you!"

_Oh no_…

"I know that last night, I may have jumped the gun a bit. I wanted to take things slow, honest. But when you started kissing me back, and grinding on me…and…well…you know, I just gave in, I guess." He paused, noticing Kyle's obvious discomfort. "I'm really sorry, dude! I won't take it that fast next time, I promise. I just got caught up with everything. You know I would never do anything you didn't want to do. I care about you too much."

_Oh no!_

"I'm willing to take it as slow as we need to. I'm just happy that you feel the same way! I'm so happy, Kyle," Stan said over and over, clasping tightly to Kyle's stiff body.

_Un-fucking-believable_.

He didn't know how long he could keep up this charade. Stan's grasp had loosened, and Kyle struggled to free himself. Stan, once again noticing Kyle's restlessness, let go abruptly. "Look, I said I'm sorry!" he reinforced, a little hurt at Kyle's behavior. "What else can I do?" He smiled deviously. "Kiss you and make it better?" Kyle stared at his best friend in horrifying shock just in time to receive a juicy kiss on his lips. He quivered, but let it go. That was, until Stan pushed himself up against him and deepened the kiss.

A whole world of confusion swept through Kyle's brain at that exact moment. He held on longer to that kiss than what he should have—he didn't want to. It was the initial shock of having your best friend in the entire universe confess that he's gay, and then dropping the bomb even further by announcing that it was _you_ he was in love with. In love! He was unsure of where to go from there. He didn't want to break Stan's heart, but to keep kissing him would be very, VERY wrong…

Kyle pushed Stan's shoulders away from him, releasing the intense lip lock. "That's it that's it that's IT!" he breathed. "I can't do this anymore!"

The rejected Stan first appeared confused before it melted away into obvious hurt.

"Dude! I don't know what the FUCK I WAS ON last night, but I sure as hell don't remember a God Damned thing!" Kyle pushed himself up off the couch and stood several feet away from Stan. He paced frantically back and forth. "I'm sorry, Stan, but right now you have to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!"

For the first time that whole morning, he looked at Stan, who was two seconds away from shedding a tear. "Ky," he started.

"No, Stan! Don't call me that! Don't call me…" He shuddered aloud. "Don't talk to me right now! I have to deal with this by myself. I can't even look at you, I'm so freaked out! Dude, what the hell did we do?" He stopped in his tracks. "No, never mind, I don't really want to know _what_ we did. Cause if we did what I think we did then I'm sorry we ever did it. I'm sorry that you thought I wanted to do it. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to do anything!"

Stan swallowed. Hard. "You didn't protest last night," he spoke in a soft whisper. But not soft enough to go undetected by his enraged friend.

"Stan, I swear to you, I'm going to find out what happened and why it did and prove that I didn't want…that…to happen!"

Stan looked so pathetic, Kyle almost felt sorry for him. But not quite. "You mean, all of those smiles…all…of those…looks that you gave me? The…kisses? It all…was because of some unknown influence?" His stuttering had developed an angry undertone.

Kyle looked at his friend once more. The thought of him initiating a kiss with Stan was too much. "I don't know what happened, dude. But, yeah, it was because of something."

Stan rapidly shook his head. "no no No No NO!" he screamed, emphasizing each 'no' with further aggression. "I don't believe you! Look at you, you are shaking!" He jumped off the couch and stood directly in front of Kyle's face. "You liked being with me and you know it! You are too embarrassed of being with me now, so you're blaming it on some stupid ass drug that DOESN'T EXIST!" He was inches away from Kyle now, panting hard.

"IT DOES EXIST STAN," Kyle yelled in a monotonous, you-know-its-true tone.

"No! Kyle," Stan changed tones, "I'm scared too. I mean, come on! I've never had feelings for another guy, _much less_ my best friend! But this is something we can work on together! I want to give it a try!" He gazed soulfully into the other's eyes. "I'm in love with you, dude."

Once again, Kyle was battling with his emotions. _How can Stan just sit there and admit this to himself_? _How can he think I feel the same_? _What does he expect my reaction to be? Say it back_?

Stan took the silence between the two as Kyle processing his feelings. "I know we can get through this! We always have. It's no different this time."

Kyle sighed. Part of him _really_ wished that he DID like Stan like that. It was tearing him apart that his best friend was so hopeful, so…in love. But alas, he had never even thought about it, and he didn't have any urge to kiss back when Stan tried once again. He simply pushed Stan off of him, and gave him a cold, long stare. "GET OFF OF ME!" he screeched, well aware that his actions were probably hurting Stan more than Stan was weirding him out. He never met to hurt him, but he couldn't just sit back and let things happen. He tried his best to calm down, switching to an 'inside voice'.

"Look, Stan, I'm sorry. I DON'T like you like that, man. I never have. Please just…go away."

Stan opened his mouth to say something, but Kyle saw tears form in the corner of his eyes instead. Before Stan could risk Kyle knowing that he wasn't man enough to not cry, he left quietly. Not saying a single word.


	6. What Happens Next?

Okay, so I really cannot do any of my stupid homework until I finish this story. Damn addiction. This chapter is a little longer than the rest, and I hope thats okay. Definitely let me know if they are getting too long, I get carried away sometimes. So yeah. Here's ze next chapter! Enjoy! Hey, and review? Yeah that would be great : ) I'll once again thank those of you who have. You make me so happy!

Chapter 6- **What Happens Next?**

_Stan's POV_

A thousand years have passed since Kyle last talked to me. Okay, so maybe only eight days. He's been doing his best to ignore me, and I've been doing my best to respect his wishes. I miss him so much. I don't know what to do! Things are so much worse now between us—I liked it better when I knew I didn't feel this way. At least then, I was ignorant. And ignorance is bliss, right?

My life has changed dramatically in this past week. I know what you're thinking, that nobody can alter his or her life that much in a few hours, but I am here to say that someone can, and that someone is _me._ Things couldn't get any worse between Kyle and me. I'm so embarrassed to have been so stupid, and not realized that the glazed expression on his face wasn't his sign of love. How could have I been so blind?

Things went from bad to worse two nights ago. I think Kyle was coming into my room to talk to me. Who knows what he was getting ready to do, but perhaps it was to make up so that we could be friends again. I want that more than anything in the world right now.

I had just gotten home from soccer practice, and I didn't think anyone else was home. After discovering I was in love with my best friend, I wanted to see if it was true. If I really was a fag. So I did something unbelievably stupid. I bought a guy-on-guy porn. I mean, I don't know anyone else around here that I could talk to, and I wanted to see for myself if I've just been hiding all these years. Anyway, to make a long story short, Kyle caught me. Just as I was jacking off to the video. Yep. He walked in, I swear with a smile on his face. As soon as he realized what was going on, and what I was watching, he ran away in horror. And the worst part is, I _liked_ it. I actually fucking liked it. Not that Kyle caught me, but what I was watching. I got off to a guy sucking another guy's dick. It made me relive the cursed scene a few nights ago that plays around and around in my head. Never to go away.

I wanted Kyle so bad that night. I've never felt this way in my life! When I was with Wendy, it was different. She was hot, but there wasn't this raw passion in our relationship. Hell, that's probably why she's with Cartman now. And that's why I've been putting up this front about not being with her. The truth is, I don't miss her as much as I thought I did. Kyle is just so amazing. He's been my best friend for so long, I know every part of his existence. I know I could make him so happy…

It takes a toll on a guy when he realizes he's gay and in love with his best friend. I don't know where to go from here.

All I know is that fatass cannot know about this. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know the details of what happened—just that Kyle and I are not on speaking terms. I hope to God Kyle hasn't told him. I don't think he would sell me out like that. But at this point, I wouldn't put anything past him. Dude, Cartman would NEVER let me live that one down.

I'm going out on a date tomorrow night. It's this guy in my sociology class that I guess I've always thought is kind of cute. He was at the party, and imed me to say that he must have missed me. I don't know what it was, but I could tell, even from talking on line, that he liked me. So I asked him if he wanted to hang out tomorrow. I guess technically its not a date, but we'll see. I have to do something to get my mind off of Kyle.

Its funny. I have been gay for like two seconds and already, I have a date lined up. Maybe _that's_ why I didn't make it well with the ladies.

Remarkably enough, I'm not as freaked out about this as I thought I was going to be. The only thing that hurts is that I don't have my best friend to talk to about it all. I've alienated him out of probably EVER wanting to talk about this with me. I'm truly afraid things won't be the same between us again. But that isn't going to stop me from trying.

I've made up my mind. Like I said, it's been eight days. I've never known so long to go without Kyle in my life. When I see him downstairs, he brushes past me, saying a polite 'hi' like I'm a passerby. It's irritating, and as much as I want to forget about it all and make up, I know that's not going to happen. As long as we're living in the same roof, though, I want to be able to feel comfortable around him. As much as possible. So I am going to try my best to apologize to him. I want him in my life, whether or not I can be with him or not. He's just too important to me to completely erase.

I'm standing right outside his bedroom door now. It is mid-afternoon and I KNOW he is in his room doing homework, just like he always does on Sundays. This is my chance.

I nervously knock on the door. I doubt he'll be able to hear me above his music. I don't hear any response, so I'm just going to go up there.

God dammit, I hate how much his door creaks when it opens. You'd think it's trying to give me a sign to stay away. I'm going to ignore that. My legs are shaking as I climb his stairs. Oh God, what if he refuses to talk to me? I can't take no for an answer! I'm nearing the top now…

I turn the corner and peer into a dark, empty room. His computer has an underwater screensaver running, and the stereo in the corner is lightly playing a Sublime song. Beside the couch are his organic chemistry books and a few sheets of blank paper with a pencil, but there is no trace of Kyle. I slowly start to turn the corner when I notice that his bedroom door is open ever so slightly. I saunter over to the heavy wooden door and push it fully open.

There, confined in the shadows, is Kyle, curled up on the bed, his back facing me.

"Go away," I hear him murmur. His voice sounds so fragile—he's been crying.

"Ky, we need to talk."

He grumbles. "I TOLD you never to call me that again." Ky had been a nickname that only I have called him, and up until a few days ago, he never seemed to care. I guess it was too…affectionate?

"Sorry. KYLE," I correct myself. "We need to talk." I take a deep breath, well aware that I could walk away from this more hurt than before. I am willing to take that chance if I can just hear his voice once more.

"There is nothing to talk about," he replies curtly. This is how it's been lately. When I ask him a question, he answers me in the minimal amount of words possible. It's driving me crazy!

"There IS something to talk about," I say through gritted teeth. I'm starting to get annoyed. "You can't just pretend that it didn't happen, because it did!"

He tries to cut me off with something inaudible.

I want so badly to sit down on the bed and hug him to make all of his troubles go away. But being that I _am_ his troubles, I choose to remain close to the door, where I have just walked in. I can't see his face here, and that bothers me.

"Kyle, I'm sorry about what happened. Believe me, you have no idea. But the truth is, you can't erase it from your memory!"

"Yeah, but if I don't talk to you, then I won't have to CONSTANTLY be reminded of it."

_Ouch_.

"So you want to erase ME from your memory? Is that what you're saying?" I screech through held-back tears. I can't believe what I am hearing!

There is a long silence. "No," is his short reply. Another moment passes and he adds, "I just can't deal with it right now."

Frustrated, I throw my hands up. "Well, God, Kyle, when is it going to be convenient for you TO deal with it? Because you're going to keep putting it off!" I don't care that he is purposely facing away from me; I'm walking over so that I can see his face. "Dude, I can't _help_ how I feel! I'm sorry that it played out that way, but I can't STAND not being able to talk to you!" He didn't even look at me before rolling in the other direction. I am not giving up.

"You are my best friend, Kyle. Without you, I am lost." I realize that probably sounded more like a declaration of love than an apology. "Look, we've dealt with awkward situations before, and we've always pulled through them together! I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you to something so stupid!"

For the first time, I hear him cry. He's trying to muffle it though. Kyle the rock. Putting away his emotions so he doesn't hurt.

"I just want you back as my friend again. Any way I can have you in my life, I'll take." Oh, the water works are flowing freely now. Eight days being a pansy and I'm already feeling the effects. "I just want my best friend back."

I know he can hear me crying. I hope he can hear how heartbroken I am over this whole issue. This visit really has nothing to do with getting him to be mine. As much as I want that, I know its not going to happen. I have to deal with those feelings on my own. No, this is strictly to salvage our friendship. "Kyle, please say something."

"I don't have anything to say to you, Stan," he replies, bluntly.

I sigh. This is getting nowhere.

I am growing angrier at this situation. It feels like he doesn't even _want_ to save our friendship. I know its going to be awkward, but Jesus Christ, give me a fucking break! I'm trying so hard to look past my emotions right now and make things right. And he's laying on his side, away from me, refusing to talk. Those tears probably aren't even for me—he's probably sad about the Geneva situation.

"Dude, you're being such a dick." There, I said it. He needs to know it. "You can at least acknowledge me. I'm STILL Stan. I'm still living in this house, whether you like it or not."

At this, he finally turns around to face me. The room is so dark I cannot make out the expression on his face. But I shudder at his coldness. "Leave me alone, Stan. Give me time to deal with this shit. Time without you." I hear him sniff. "I can't even look at you right now, how do you expect everything to go back to normal?" Ironic. As he said this, he was staring directly at me.

"Kyle, we'll pull through this!" I cry in desperation. Getting him to look at me was a step in the right direction.

Kyle is sitting straight up in his bed, with his hands propping him up. If he were any more motionless, I'd think he was dead. "Tell me one thing."

I smile behind the tears at this hopeful question. "Anything!"

"Do you still like me?"

I pause. What an odd question to ask me. Of course I still like him. I shrug my shoulders to answer 'yes'.

"Do you want to be with me?"

Where is this going? I have be careful. "I know you don't feel the same way."

"That's not what I asked you, Stan. Answer the question."

Damn, he's being persistent. I sigh and throw my hands up. "What difference does it make, Kyle? It's not going to happen, and I've accepted that." In truth, I haven't quite accepted it. I haven't quite realized the gravity of the whole situation. To love someone and not have their love in return. To know that you would _never_ have their love in return.

"It makes a lot of difference, Stan. Tell me. DO YOU want to be with me?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. Yes. Yes I do. More than anything in the entire world, and that is a scary thought. "Not anymore," I lie.

My eyes are adjusting to the darkness in the room, and I just saw his eyes blink. "You mean to tell me, you risked our friendship for one night of pleasure for you?" he mutters. _Whoa, _how did that get turned around on me? Was there really a correct way I could have answered his question?

"No," I began.

"You mean to tell me, that after all of those years we had together, as close as we were to one another, you were willing to take advantage of me just so you could get some?"

_What_?

"Stan, what the fuck did you do to me that night? Did you slip something in my water? Did you lace my weed with hallucinogens? Admit to me what you did, you COWARD!"

_What the fuck!_

"Oh no. No no no no! You can't blame this whole thing on me! I didn't do shit to you, Kyle! You kissed me back! You took off my shirt! You climbed on top of me!" He twitches and presses his eyes together as I bring back the 'painful' memories of that night. I don't give a shit anymore; he's acting like a complete lunatic.

"STOP SAYING THAT! If I knew what the FUCK I was doing, I wouldn't be in there with you in the first place! Something happened, and YOU did something to me!" He is openly crying now. Does he really believe what he is accusing me of? God, I hope not. I pray he is just being irrational. For once, I have to be the one to calm HIM down. I take a deep breath to release my anger.

"Kyle, if that's really what you think about me, then maybe we _shouldn't_ be trying to amend this relationship. I would NEVER do anything to hurt you. I would hope you would know that by now. I care about you too much, dude."

He snorts. "Yeah right."

Grrrrrrrr…

"Yeah it IS right! I fucking love you. And I lied before—I DO want to be with you. I don't want to have some meaningless night with you; I want it be for real. But I _know_ that will never happen, and I'm doing my best to get over it."

He changes tones. Not really into a warmer one. It's still equally as harsh, just…different. "All the girls I've ever liked have all run to you, and you turn out to be a fucking faggot."

_THAT'S IT!_

"I'm going to leave now," I say in monotone, doing my best to resist the urge to pound him for being such a thoughtless asshole.

"Good," is all I hear in reply.

That went over well.

---

_Kyle's POV_

I wish Stan would leave me alone. I hate being that mean to him, but I honestly can't look at the guy without feeling really uncomfortable and sad. Sad because I know this is messing with our near-perfect relationship. I guess every friendship has its downfalls. Still, I thought I could be cool with this all. And maybe I still will be. I just need time to let it wear off. Or sink in, I'm not sure.

I love the guy so much. I can't help it—I mean, its STAN. And the more I sit around and waste away, the more I really _really_ wish I could return the feeling. It would be so much easier. I'd by lying if I told you I hadn't thought about it. I mean, so what if I don't like guys? I don't think he really does either. You know when you find that one special person in the world and it doesn't matter who they are, where they came from, or what differences you have? I think he may be feeling the effects of that. I understand you, buddy. I just can't let you know I feel this way.

First off, I will not tell Stan that I've been thinking about it, mostly because I don't want to break his heart further if I decide against it. I'm just waiting around, finding out how I feel. Secondly, I'm scared to death about what these feelings might mean…

I know I was just a royal jerk back there. Yeah, you may think that our relationship is damaged beyond repair. But I think Stan will give me a break. I'm going to have to apologize, I already know this. You can't call your best friend a 'fucking faggot' and get away with it. Oh God, I really did just say that, didn't I?

I have such a headache. I need medicine.

I'm going to walk downstairs now. I can't concentrate on my homework. I hope Stan knows what a wreck I've been. I hope he knows I was crying for him. Crying for us. That's saying a lot—I don't cry for anything.

As I reach the bottom of my stairs, I suddenly get this wave of fear washing over me. I hope Stan is either in his room or downstairs. The thought of seeing him after _that_ is too much. Man, I really fucked up.

I push open the door, and peer into the hall. His door is cracked open. I think he is inside.

Good. I'll just whiz right past to the bathroom.

Once I'm safely inside, I rush to the sink and splash some cold water on my face. I look at myself in the mirror. I am a complete wreck. And I look like hell. How can Stan even begin to like me like that? I don't nearly have the looks he has. We'd look so funny together. Him, all pretty boy hot boy, and me…well…I'm just a Jewish nerd.

I run my fingers through my tangled mess of hair and open the medicine cabinet. Inside I find two toothpastes—one Cartman hogs all to himself—some floss, a face wash that Cartman is embarrassed to display, and our medicine. I take a white little bottle out, pop the top, and drop two into my hand.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" I hear a curious voice coming from the hallway. It's Stan. What does he want?

"None of your business," I tell him. Its really not!

"Kyle, why are you taking that?" he asks, concerned.

I decide to be sarcastic. Unfortunately, it probably wasn't the right time to be. "Um, because I have a headache? And this is headache medicine…"

I watch him take a big gulp and look at me strangely. What!

"That's…that's not headache medicine," he tells me cautiously.

"What are you talking about?" I ask him, in all honesty.

He gets this weird look in his eye. Like he's about to disappoint me or something. "A buddy of mine from soccer gave me those a few weeks ago. I brought 'em home, but wasn't sure what to do with them."

I look into his eyes. "Stan, what are they?"

He is looking down at the floor. Avoiding my stare.

"Stan…"

"Ecstasy," he answers, almost in a whisper.

I stare at him blankly, forgetting to blink. Did he just say what I think he said? Now I'm not sure what to think. I know he would never do that shit. "What the hell are you doing with half a bottle of ecstasy, Stan?"

"I swear I wasn't going to use any of it!" he pleas, noticing my intense glare of disapproval.

"Then why didn't you just throw it away?" I ask, irritated. I can't believe my best friend has some X in his possession. "And why the hell did you put it in the medicine cabinet?"

"I don't know!" he yells, flustered. He's a fool, but an honest one at that. Throwing it away probably didn't even cross his mind. Putting it in the medicine cabinet, where we keep all of our medicine, most likely seemed like the best option for him. Why, I don't know.

Just then, I realize something. Something catastrophic. I hit my hand hard against my forehead. _THIS_ bottle was the headache medicine I used that night at the party. I popped two pills of X instead! THAT is why I felt so weird after coming to. Well, that explains a lot…

"Stan, you dumbass!" I scream, roaring with anger. "I TOOK THIS! I took two pills that night…for my headache!"

His eyes grow larger than quarters. He knows exactly what I'm talking about. "HOLY SHIT, DUDE!" he cries out. Probably afraid of what I'm going to him now. I can't hurt him though—he's too stupid to know the stupidity of the situation. And I don't really want to hurt him further. I think he knows now why what happened happened. And so do I. It makes me a feel a lot better that he didn't intentionally do something to me. I didn't honestly think that, but my mind was crazy, searching for answers. Perhaps I think that if I thought that is what truly happened, it would be easier to blame him. When in reality, it was just a bad circumstance all together.

"I am _sooo_ sorry, Ky!" he says, trembling. I'm going to let the fact that he called me that slide. I've never minded when he called me that, but now it just…can't work anymore. It's a pet name, and I am not his pet.

Without another word, Stan vanishes out of my sight. I hear him a few seconds later in the next room. After slamming the door shut, he runs over to his bed and is now crying. The walls aren't too thick. I freeze, the cursed bottle still in my hand. What do I do now? In one swift motion, I walk over to the toilet, and drop the two pills in my hand, along with the entire contents of the unmarked 'medicine' into the bowl. Why the hell would Stan accept ecstasy from someone? Was he not telling me something?

Okay look. I may be a pothead, but I will never go any further than that. All of my friends know that, and I _thought_ all of my friends were the same way. I refuse to try some mind-altering substance that only creates a temporary high before crashing deeper down. Weed doesn't do that to me. It keeps me mellow. I should notice this, because I haven't smoked in awhile. That's probably why I'm on edge. Why I'm being such a dick. Come to think of it, it's probably been like three days. Right now I could really use some calming down. It feels like when I smoke, I see things clearer. I make decisions rationally.

_Of course_! I'll be able to figure out the Stan dilemma. Figure out what it is I feel. How I should deal with this. My headache has mysteriously vanished, and I walk upstairs with an agenda in mind.

---

_Cartman's POV_

I had sex with Wendy! I had sex with Wendy! I had se-

**_Knock knock knock._**

"Yeah, what is it?" I ask, annoyed that my thoughts have been interrupted.

"Cartman, can I talk to you?" I hear a shy voice speak on the other side of the door. Whoa, its Stan's voice. He hasn't wanted to talk to me since before the party. I guess its cause he and his hippie boyfriend had a fight and they aren't talking to each other. And by not talking to each other, I mean literally only saying a few words when they pass. Its kind of nice—hearing their voices pisses me off anyway.

"Piss off, Stan!" I state, still angry at him for being a douche about the whole Wendy fiasco.

He opens my door anyway. What is it with people and invading my privacy? Damn!

"Cartman. Er, Eric, I mean." Whoa, he just called me Eric. This is serious. Maybe I should at least _pretend_ to be interested. It probably has something to do with him and Kyle. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, Stan. What is it?" I say, doing my best fake-care impersonation. "You can tell me anything!" I fucking hate how those guys only come to me when they don't want to talk to each other. Waidaminute. That's never happened! What's going on?

"Look," he starts. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to, or even see, right now. Lord knows you are the last person I have to talk to about this. But Kenny isn't answering his phone, and I really have to talk to someone."

Touché, my friend. Touché.

"Go on," I coax. Where is this heading?

Stan makes his way over to me, sitting down on my bed, uninvited. I decide I won't pound him for it—he looks rather distraught.

"Before I say anything else, I need to apologize to you."

Damn right, you do. "Oh, Stan, whatever for?" I sound sickenly sweet right now, and he can tell.

"Alright look. I know I've been an asshole about Wendy. I'm sorry for that. I thought it was hard to let her go. I think it's just hard for me to realize that she wouldn't want to be with me." He pauses and takes a deep breath, avoiding my eyes. "But I know she is happier with you, and whether I can get used to that or not, you deserve the best, dude."

Wow. Maybe I will listen to him now. "Okay, Stan, what's this all about?" I ask, trying to get to the point of his visit.

"It's Kyle." I knew it. "I can't stand that he's mad at me, but I think I may have royally fucked up this time."

"Why do you think that?" My voice sounds a little more genuine. What? I can be nice sometimes.

He looks at me like he's contemplating what to say next. He's holding back what he'd really say if it were…Kenny…for example. "I don't know how to say this, Cartman, but…I recently discovered that…um…I…" He trails off.

I raise my eyebrows in an attempt to say 'go on'.

"I like Kyle."

WHAT? Hahahahaa! "Excuse me, did I hear you right? Did you say you _like_ Kyle?" Oh man, this is too much!

He's glaring at me now. Probably realizing telling me this is a mistake. I'm sorry, but I could have SWORN those two were fags since the minute I met them. Its funny how often I am right.

"Yes. I like Kyle," he repeats, not understanding how amusing this is for me. No, his hurt is truly touching. Really. But holy crap this is hilarious news! As if that's not enough, he goes on.

"I figured it out at the party. I got really drunk, and I was so upset about you and Wendy, and Kyle calmed me down. I started feeling something I'd never felt before, and before I knew it, I started looking at him differently. We went up to his room to get me to calm down, and I couldn't stand it. When he found that Kenny fucked that Geneva girl, he was mad, he had a headache so he took these pills that he thought were headache medicine when in fact they were ecstasy that this guy gave me at soccer practice that I was never going to use but Kyle took them and he started feeling all horny and I did too and we made out but he really didn't want to and now when I see him he pretends like I don't exist and I'm afraid that our friendship is over."

….

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I tried my best to look concerned. But it was no use. "You two…chuckle…made out?"

Stan growled. "I knew it was a mistake to tell you!"

"No, no. Stan, really. I'd like to help. Now, what's it like kissing faggy little Jew boy?"

Hahaha.

_Ouch_! He just punched me. "You asshole!" I hear him mutter as he exits my room. I'm left to roll around in laughter at this newfound information.

A few minutes pass, and as I calm down, I start thinking about my Wendy again. It's a far better mental picture than those homos.

---

_Kenny's POV_

Life is so strange, let me tell you. Last weekend, it seemed like I woke up in a completely different house. Sure, it was still trashed, but it was so quiet yet hostile, I felt like I was in the alternate universe. I really hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure Stan and Kyle did…something. The tension between those two in the few hours I stayed before heading home was so thick you could cut it with a meat cleaver. And don't ask me how I know about it. I just know. That's me, I'm Kenny. Kenny knows all.

Except where the fuck Paul had stayed that night. I received an anonymous phone call at 8 in the morning telling me he was okay and passed out in this chic Erin's room. _Paul, Paul, Paul,_ I scold. Bebe won't be too happy to hear about this. Probably best that he's not going to tell her.

The drive home from Denver was pretty gruesome. Paul was still angry with me for the retarded fight that past night, and I was concentrating so intently on the thought of Stan and Kyle being together, I nearly drove us off the road. Don't get me wrong, these guys are my best friends, but damn, they are hot. And the two of them together? I wanted to know what had happened. My imagination caught the best of me, and I ended up locking myself in my bedroom with some porn magazines as soon as I got home.

My name is Kenny McCormick. People know me as the pervert of South Park. The guy who has more sleeping partners than the entire state of Rhode Island. But I swear, there is more to me. I see Stan and Kyle, and I see where they are coming from. I've thought about it before. I don't consider myself gay, but if the personality fit the profile, I might think twice. These boys have been so blind to their love for each other for such a long time, just because they have conformed to society's belief that two best guy buddies can't be more than friends. Yeah, I'm deep. Seriously, it aches me to see them be so close…yet so far apart from each other. Ever since our freshman year of high school, when the two inseparable boys were more content spending Fridays and Saturday nights together alone instead of going to parties with me, I knew something was up.

And it was sweet. Pure, if I can go so far. Although I can't imagine anything resulting from that drunken, anger-laced night being innocent and pure. But they have something special, and they shouldn't ignore it. If I had half the relationship they had together with any kind of a male, I'd be all over him in a second. But then again, I _am_ Kenny McCormick, the pervert of South Park. What do I know?

The reason I bring this up now is because I recently got a call from Kyle. Its Saturday afternoon, and its been exactly two weeks and one day since whatever may or may not have happened…happened. He tells me that he is going to drive down to see me—he needs to talk to me. Kyle knows that I'm willing to listen, just give me the chance. I have to work today, unfortunately, but tomorrow I am free. He has refused to stay another night at school, and he called me about five minutes ago to let me know that he's coming home tonight, and needs a place to stay. _Goddammit_, Kyle, _I told you I couldn't hang out tonight._ Truth is, this amazing blonde that has been visiting the grill has agreed to wait on me after work tonight, and we are supposed to go on a date. Most likely, we'll end up fucking, and I'll pretend that she is the world's best lay ever. She'll get all emotional, and we'll say our goodbyes in the morning. Damn, if I had the love of my best friend, I wouldn't have to go around whoring myself to the town to feel good about who I am. It wouldn't be worth it.

I'm going to have to cancel with Bridget, the hottie from the grill. Too bad I can't talk Kyle into a juicy threesome. Her long legs and his slender figure…we could make some hot love. Okay, so maybe _that's_ where they get this idea that I'm a pervert.

Whatever. I do what I want, as Cartman used to say.

I leave for and return from work it seems almost instantly. My mind was preoccupied with Kyle's concerned voice all night, even when Bridget further entices me by taking me into the backroom and going down on me. She is so fucking hot…but I've said it before. I'll say it again: friends come first. S'okay, she and I made 'plans' for Tuesday night. I better start doing my Yoga stretches for this one. It may be a marathon. I can tell by the way she sucks my dick with the pleasure of a child receiving a long-awaited toy. But for now, Kyle is my priority.

Kyle, who looks emotionally beat-up when I answer his knock on my door. Kyle, who looks down at me with big puffy eyes of confusion. Kyle, who is in love with his best friend and doesn't know how to deal.

"Hey, dude, what's up?" I casually ask, avoiding all awkward male-bonding times. Kyle's came here for a reason, and it sure as hell ain't to bond with me. I'll leave the bonding up to Stan.

He looks pathetic, really. He may be close to a foot taller than me, but I suddenly feel like the bigger man. Kyle is wearing his heart on his sleeve as he comes in, taking a seat next to me on the living room futon.

"Hey, Kenny," he greets. "Boy, do I have to talk to you."

I give him the signal to go on.

"Dude, I don't even know where to start," he begins, uncertainly. I figure I'll just nudge him along the way.

I interrupt him before he stressed himself out further. "Is this about Stan?" I ask, nonchalantly. He shoots me a shocked "how-the-hell-did-you-know" look, and blinks slowly. His eyes fall to the ground.

"Look, I already figured you two out," I explain. "Stan's had a crush on you for over four years now—HE just hasn't really figured it out yet. And, well, you, I'm pretty sure you'll come around too. Guys like that don't pop up out of nowhere, you know."

Kyle looks as if he is straining his ears to actually hear me, but my voice is of perfect volume. I continue. "So what happened?"

_Ha_, I think he had this whole conversation planned out, and I just messed him up. Knowing Kyle, he probably spent the entire drive down rehearsing how he was going to say what he was going to say. He's a nerd like that. But hey, its cool, cause I got the shocking part out of the way.

"Okay…well…shit Kenny! You ruined my whole big introduction!" he cries.

_I knew it!_ "Okay, I'm shocked, now let's hear it," I mock.

Kyle sends out sort of a half-smile. "Alright. Well, it all started when I kicked Geneva out. When I kicked everyone out…" He tells me the story (you've heard it before), and every so often I catch myself resituating on the couch to avoid any further arousal. Seriously, HOT. Sucks that he can't remember details, only what he has started to recall.

"…and I woke up the next day, not remembering a damn thing. So whatever really happened, I'm not sure. Stan makes it sound like we did some shit that I can't even comprehend."

I stare at Kyle. "So what's the problem?" I ask, honestly.

"Dude! It's Stan! He's my best friend! This is some fucked up shit right here, and I can't deal. I had to get away because everywhere I turn, he's there. He's been really good about not talking to me, but even his presence bothers me."

I continue to stare, dumbfounded. "And you didn't want this?"

"Kenny! If I hadn't taken that shit, I would have NEVER done that stuff!"

I look at him in disbelief. How long was it going to take for him to either breakdown or realize that he might have feelings for Stan? To me, it had been obvious how much Stan likes Kyle, so I am going on a whim that Kyle might, in turn, like Stan back. It's just a theory, but I think I'm going to push for that. See where it goes. And so I press on.

"Are you saying that you didn't, without a doubt in the back of your mind, without the slightest bit of hesitation, without the furthest stretch of your imagination, without an arousing thought, want Stan to confess his feelings to you during this intense, heated moment that will stand out in your memory forever?" I exaggerate for dramatic effect.

"A moment I can't fucking remember?" he fires back, growing angry with me. Shit! I forgot. Time for Plan B.

"Stan likes you. Okay, I said it, Kyle. He likes you. He may even love you, dude. I can tell by the way he looks at you, by the way he talks about you, by the way his voice flutters when he speaks your name, and by the way he always puts you first. In front of EVERYTHING. Even Wendy. You know he risked breaking up with that girl because she didn't approve of you?"

Kyle is speechless. He knows how much Stan loved Wendy. I like how when Stan or Kyle has a problem he can't talk to the other about; I am the one they will turn to. I am the one that will be able to fill the other in. I guess a temporary best friend is better than just being an acquaintance.

"Stan told her he would never give you up, and that caused her to torture him for two full weeks. But she realized it was a lost cause, and tried to make amends. And somehow she transformed her apology into a 'you should be begging to get me back' ordeal. Stan caved in, the pussy that he is, and eventually Wendy just stopped trying to control THAT aspect of his life." I pause. Kyle looks down at me with thoughtful green eyes and sighs.

"I remember that. He and Wendy were in their longest fight EVER, and I was so proud of him for actually standing up to her." Kyle fixates his gaze onto the floor. "But he told me it was because they had too many differences."

"Nope. It was cause of you," I hastily remind him, and watch as he bashfully blushes.

He clears his throat. "So…Stan…likes me," he said, more to himself than anyone else. I'm pretty sure it just sunk in the extent to how much Stan feels for him. Before, he might have thought it was like a one-night horny-fest, but I could tell now that he knew it was for real.

"He told me he loves me," Kyle mentions in a matter-of-fact way. He covers his face with his hands and leans forward. "And I was such a douche to him!" I hear him sniff, and wonder if he's crying or if he's just cold. My house is barely above outside temperature.

"Dude, I fucking called him a faggot! I told him to stay away from me, and I told him that I couldn't look at him because he despises me!"

Yeah, that will hurt someone's feelings all right. "Kyle, don't be so hard on yourself. Its not like you really knew the situation when it happened. It sounds to me like you were still pretty out of it, and overcoming the shock of seeing your best friend in your bed was probably something that didn't come lightly to you." I lower my voice. "And it's not too late to fix anything."

Kyle looks up. He _had_ been crying. "I've hurt him so much, I don't see us ever recovering."

"Do you love him back?"

Kyle stares into my eyes, blankly. I can't quite tell what he is thinking, but I think my words throw him off again. He is silent for well over a minute. I'm giving him time to process his thoughts.

"I…I don't know," he manages to finally sputter. "I've never looked at him that way before. I don't know if I can."

"Well," I reply. "There is only one way to find out."


	7. Turmoil

First off, I HAVE to thank all of my wonderful reviewers! IrishGoddess, you've been there every step of the way, and all of you newbies, I absolutely ADORE! Society's Cavity, holy hell! That was incredible. Thank you so much! BratChild2, Nene, MooseDeEvita, and takeflight, I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Thank you! And dansynqueen…you hold a special place in my heart : ) More reviews make me very happy, so keep 'em coming! As for this next chapter, I hope it's not a let down to the cliffhanger. I realize that was terrible of me, but you have to admit, it has you wondering. And I'm going to say right now that I'm not going to be able to fire out these updates _quite_ as quickly, just because I fear I'm falling behind in school. No worries though. I WILL deliver.

Chapter 7- **Turmoil**

_Kenny's POV_

Kyle has been asleep for over an hour now, and I'm not the slightest bit tired. I analyze the ceiling tiles above me, contemplating the recent events of my life. The night had been great. We started out with this heart-to-heart about him and Stan, and I found out that there might be hope yet for my two best buddies. But I'm going to have to wait and see. I told Kyle he needs to get Stan alone, and, under a romantic context, kiss him. If he feels anything during this kiss, then he will know what he feels. If he doesn't, then he'll at least make Stan feel a little better about the situation, seeing that Kyle at least tried and all.

And so Kyle's going to do it. He has made up his mind that he will do it the following weekend, when he knows Cartman is flying over to see Wendy. Those two are getting so serious; I won't be surprised when he pops the question prematurely. Anyway, this will be the perfect time because Stan and Kyle can be by themselves, no fatass to ruin any potential 'moment'.

Kyle and I talked about his feelings and how confusing this whole situation is for at least an hour, but he got tired of thinking about the "what-ifs", and decided to go along with my plan. Shortly after, we decided to head out for a bite to eat, and possibly some entertainment.

We ate at this quaint pizza place on the south end of North Park, near my place of employment. I suggested this place because I made out with the owner's butt-ugly daughter, and she now gives me free pizza. Kyle laughed when I told him that. What? Its free food! You would have made out with her too. Sure enough, she was working that night, and Kyle and I shared some breadsticks, a pitcher of soft drink, and a large pizza all for free. We tipped her like $10, so that should be enough for me to get more free stuff in the future.

After the pizza, Kyle decided he wanted to go out to the bars. Actually, there is only one bar worth going to in North Park, and I got in good with the bouncer of that place—he lets me in just for being me. I snuck Kyle in the back door. We drank so many drinks in that first hour; Kyle started looking mighty tasty to me. I almost didn't have the willpower…or want…to keep my hands off of him. But we were there for a good time, not to confuse him any further. I kept my hands to myself, except when I was all over this slut with fake tits. Kyle watched us in the distance as he sat in the corner. He looked so out of place, and so…lonely. I'm pretty sure if I could have read his mind, he was thinking about Stan.

I took the slut over to the table he was at, and she randomly started making out with me. Then, she tried to make out with KYLE! He pushed her off with a gross look all over his face, but then he started laughing uncontrollably. He leaned over to me when she went to the bathroom, and whispered in my ear, "Stan is a better kisser." It was enough to make me smile. At least he was thinking about the possibilities.

We retired to my house sometime around 2, Kyle being unusually tired. He had eaten a piece of cold pizza and dozed off on the couch. After having a drunken snack myself, I went upstairs to my bedroom, and tried to lie down to sleep. But all I kept thinking about was Stan and Kyle. Not in a sexual way either. I know, I am as surprised as you are! No, in a deep loving sort of way. I realized this very night how much I secretly want so badly to find a love of my own.

And that's where I'm at now. On the verge of a peaceful slumber, now that I've recapped all the events of tonight in my brain. It really wasn't that exciting, but it was refreshing to go out with Kyle, one of my best friends. I can't remember the last time we've gotten together, just the two of us. I wonder how many sleepovers Stan and Kyle have had. I wonder how many more of them were to come…

---

Kyle goes back today. It's been great having him here this weekend, but I can see that he is ready and almost eager to see Stan. I, myself, am eager to go to work today. I think Bridget is going to pay me a visit. If I'm lucky, I'll get to take her home tonight. If I play my cards right.

"See you, Kenny." Kyle waves a goodbye at me as he walks out of the door and down the outdoor stairs. "Thanks for everything! I'll let you know what happens next week."

I give him the wink and the gun. I don't know why, it just feels right. "You got it," is my response, and I rush inside to prepare for work. All I really have to do is shower and get dressed. I go upstairs and take my T-shirt off. The doorbell, or what's left of it, rings. Ah, who could that be? I hope its not Kyle. I have a severe case of morning wood, and I'm too lazy to put my shirt back on. The doorbell continues to ring as I make my way to the door. I open it, not caring that the cute girl in front of me sees me in my boxers and socks. She is really cute. Who is she?

"Hi, my name is Stacy. I...um...my sister, Andrea, lives right below you," she speaks quietly, with a noticeable accent. Not sure what kind, but not too exotic.

I must be staring at her pretty hard core, because she gets all self-conscious and looks down at the floor, a foot in front of me. She is blushing, from what I can see. Her freckles in her face are uncovered. I decide to relieve the awkward situation, and I scratch the back of my head. I know that my hair is sticking up, and I know it probably is matted down. I haven't showered in three days—the reason I was on my way to do it. I'm a skuzzy dirtball, and she is this petite little girl avoiding my erection to avoid embarrassment. I suddenly feel guilty. She couldn't have been a day over twelve.

"I'm really sorry to bother you. But Andrea is such a dumb blonde that she blew out the pilot light on her oven, and I was wondering if maybe you could help us relight it. You know, without burning the entire place down." She laughs nervously; either at her lame joke or the intense look I have given her. I can't explain it. For some reason, this little girl intrigues me. Not only is she the cutest thing I have ever seen. She is embarrassed to talk to me! I find that adorable.

"Yeah, sure I can help you out," I say, inviting her to come in. She meanders her way into my cluttered and small apartment, taking her place on a kitchen table chair. I hold up my index finger as a sign to 'wait right there', and two minutes later I emerge from my bedroom with a shirt and a pair of worn jeans on. She looks into my eyes for the first time as she gets up off the chair.

"You have amazing eyes," she tells me, and it makes my heart flutter. Never before has anyone ever given me such an innocent, heartfelt compliment without me giving one to her first. "You can tell a lot from a person's eyes," she finishes. She gives me a warm smile and proceeds to walk out. I instantly feel a bit stupid. The only thing I can tell from her eyes is that they are chocolate brown. Which matches her hair, that's pulled up into a loose ponytail. She has a tiny neck, and looks ridiculous in the oversized hoodie she is wearing. Her legs are short and slender, covered by some cotton black shorts. Her toenails are painted a neutral orange color. Her feet are probably the size of my hands.

I guess I can tell a lot from someone's eyes. Or their body. Am I checking this girl out? Shit, there are laws against that.

"You never told me your name." Her voice is so delicate.

"Kenny. Kenny McCormick." I laugh to myself. Girls seem to fall all over how I introduce myself like James Bond. This girl just nods and smiles. Wow.

"Well, Kenny, I'm sorry if you were asleep."

I follow her down the stairs, into her sister's apartment. Her sister, or so I gather, is huddled around the stove, freaking out. She has got to be one of the hottest women I have ever seen in my life. How the fuck haven't I ran into her yet? She doesn't look anything like Stacy. She has the perfect model body, complete with long golden blonde hair and an ass that I can check out freely through her very short shorts. She looks like she is around 6', about twenty-five years old. She rises from her knees and wipes the sweat off her brow with a free hand. She walks over to me and shakes my hand. "Hey Kenny," she says, and I drop my jaw in shock. Fucking amazing!

"Paul told me," she explained. "I've had him come help me a few times. I'm not exactly Miss Fix-It." Her voice is genuine, but there is a touch of shallowness and dumbness. I'm actually more interested in her sister. Oh my God, does that make me a pedophile?

"And Stacy came down from school for a weekend, so when something breaks, I'd think _she'd_ be able to help me. After all, that is your major, dear sister." A hint of hostility shines through her voice, leaving me feeling awkward, but relieved. Stacy is in college. She eyes her sister evilly and smirked, then walks away.

I watch as Andrea eyes me up and down. This is the time where it would have been nice to be in my boxers. She and I could get right down to business. Ha, not with Stacy there. Where was Stacy anyway? "Yeah, I uh…I know some stuff. I'm pretty good with appliances." This much is true. I've always been good with my hands. Mom thinks I should be an electrician or a repairman.

Stacy reappears. "Sister DEAR, my major is engineering. How do you figure that into your dense equation?" Wow.

I watch these girls interact amongst each other, one the most beautiful, the other the most intriguing. I was pretty sure that Andrea wasn't wearing any underwear. And I was pretty sure Stacy had some big boobs for being as small as she was. They satisfy me. I like watching girls, especially girls at work. I am kind of supervising, telling them what step to do next. Stacy has refused to let me do any of the work. But as time moves on, I realize I'm going to be late for work.

"Ladies, can I just do something real quick?" I ask, impatiently.

"Sure," Andrea says. "Whatever," is Stacy's curt reply.

I reach down, and in one swift motion lift the covering and light the stupid pilot light. I feel Andrea watch my in wonder, either at my skill or my charm. I see Stacy breath deeply and cross her arms. I don't know why, but that girl is interesting me more and more. She's not like other girls. She doesn't fall over me and pretend to be a ditz to gain my attention. I want to find out more.

"Thank you so much," she tells me, shaking my hand and pushing me to the doorway. "I think we can take it from here. It was nice to meet you, Kenny."

I feel rushed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I complain when she pushes me out the door. "Can you at least walk me back up to my floor?"

"Andrea can do that for you," she replies, cold and dark. Is she jealous that I looked at her sister? I mean, no offense, but who wouldn't? It's not her I want to talk to, though.

"I believe it is proper for the askee to carry out this duty," I explain, in my utmost gentleman vocabulary. And so she walks me up. One flight of stairs, and we are standing on the landing near my front door. "Listen, I have to get ready for work, but I'd really like take you out later. How does 9:00 sound?" This technique has always worked in the past—why does it feel so particularly bold with her?

She lazily rolls her eyes. "I don't think so." She walks me up to my door and turns around to me. "I know your type. I saw you look at my sister. Yeah, I know, who wouldn't?" I smiled at her last statement. She leans in toward me. "Thank you, Kenny, but I shall be going now."

I blink in disbelief. Did I just get turned down? I JUST GOT TURNED DOWN! By some lame twelve-year-old girl that has a supermodel for a sister! Shit, I can't seem to get over it though. Even as I hear her door shut quietly beneath me, I still remain frozen in the very spot that she just left me in. This only means I am going to have to work harder.

---

_Stan's POV_

I can't fucking believe that Kyle just left this weekend. He has become so uncomfortable with me, he won't even tell me when he decides to take a trip home. Of all people, I had to find this out from Cartman.

Oh, GOD, it was a mistake to tell Cartman. He has the power to ruin my life. I don't think my parents would care if they found out, but it would definitely take some adjusting. And I'm not too sure Kyle's mom will be too keen on knowing her son was fucked up on X and made out with his best friend. A boy. Yeah, Stan, you are an IDIOT! I hit myself in the forehead as I near the corner of the kitchen.

Cartman is on the phone in his room, and has been all day. I have nothing better to do, and its Sunday. Remember the guy I said I was going out with last week? His name is Jeremy, and, yes, he is into me. He didn't think I was "that way" and seemed really nervous around me. But when we agreed upon a nicer restaurant for dinner, I don't know, I just guessed. He gave me a kiss goodnight, and I am unsure of how I feel.

I like him. I really do. For what I know of him, I think I shouldn't cut this possible relationship off.

But he's no Kyle.

I fucking miss Kyle so much, it makes my body ache. I have slowly begun to realize what it means to end up eternally alone, and that thought erases every last happy, hopeful, optimistic thought I have and replaces it with utter depression. I love him so much—why can't he see that and feel the same way? I sigh. It will never happen like that. I will never again feel his lips on mine. I will never get to hold him and cherish him. I will never get to hang out with him alone. Hell, I will never be able to hang out with him period. He doesn't even want my friendship. If he did, then he would have made at least _some_ sort of attempt these past few weeks. I mean, it's been…two weeks! Damn…

Now he has run away from me. And I am completely hopeless.

So I am going on yet another date with Jeremy. We set it up for next weekend. Friday, to be exact. This guy really wants to get to know me, I can tell. And I think I want to get to know him too. If I can't ever have the one I want, I better start working on settling for the ones I'm going to get, right? Oh, that's terrible.

I really have transitioned well into this, um, alternative lifestyle. I still have trouble admitting it to myself, but in my experiments, I made out with a really pretty girl at a party last night, and she did nothing for me. I longed for Kyle's touch. Kyle's masculinity.

I have decided that I am going to tell my parents. This next weekend, I will go home and give it to 'em straight. "Mom, Dad, I'm gay," and hope for the best. Dad will probably pull a disappearing act on me too. He's good at handling his emotions like that. Mom loves me, I know this. She is going to support me no matter what decision I have made for myself. She has told me this once before. Sometimes I wonder he she knew already that I felt this way. Some sort of a motherly instinct? Combined with gay-dar.

I need to talk to someone. I really do. Kyle took Kenny away from me, who am I going to talk to about this? There is only one person I can think of. I pull out my cell phone, and whip through the numbers until the end. Wendy. I swiped her number from Cartman's phone one day when I shamefully went through his room looking for anything to be angry about. Would you guess that that tactic did not work too well on calming me down?

I'm not sure what I'm going to say to her. All I can remember is how caring she was when we were together. She had always been a good listener, and I really needed someone to hear me out, without laughing in my face about it. I dial her numbers, and wait for the busy tone to subside. Task one will be to convince her to hang up with Cartman. That might be just about the hardest task I have ever set for myself.

I hear it ringing. A girl's voice picks up on the other end. "Hello?"

I pause, unsure of how to even start. She grows impatient. "HELLO."

"Uh…hi, Wendy."

…

She does not bother to disguise her surprise. "Stan?"

"Yeah, its me."

I hear her sigh. "What do you want, Stan…"

"Please don't hang up on me, Wendy. I know you are on the other line with Cartman, but I really need someone to talk to, and I have no one else to turn to." I hope this desperate attempt will make her feel sorry for me, and possibly work to getting her to hang up with him.

"Are you okay?" she asks, kindheartedly.

"No. Please, Wendy. I wouldn't ask you this if it were anything small. Please." I am practically on my hands and knees.

She sighs again. A moment of silence then a, "hang on." I listen for the line to click over. Three minutes later, I hear it click again.

"Stan what's this all about? I'm not too happy with you right now," she says. And I agree with her.

"Yes, I know. I'm not happy with myself. I should have treated you guys with-"

"Respect? Understanding, maybe," she interjected.

"Okay, okay, yes. I'm admitting my mistake. And I am truly sorry. But I am so completely fucked up right now, you have got to talk some sense into me."

Her voice switched to concern. "What's wrong?" She knows that I didn't usually give up that easily. Something _must_ be wrong, otherwise I would keep arguing. I am too weak to even try.

"Wendy, I don't really know how to say this. I'm going to tell you something, and I don't want to hear your opinion on it, and I don't want to hear an argument about it. I want you to listen to me, and offer me advice if you have any." I feel it best to prompt it this way—less room for error.

"Wendy, I love you."

"Stan-" she starts to interrupt.

"No," I continue, forcefully. "Listen."

Silence.

"Wendy, I love you. Or at least, I know I did. I think that getting over you may been the hardest thing I've had to go through in my life. And I don't think I let you know how wonderful of a woman you are, even before our breakup. I spent some of my happiest days with you, and you made my life complete. I thought we were going to be together forever." I'm not really sure where all of this is heading…I kind have just opened my mouth to speak and all of this started coming out.

"That night at the party, I was devastated. I was frustrated, because knowing you and Cartman were in his bedroom doing stuff that _we've_ done before…well, I couldn't handle it. And I'm really sorry for hurting any relationship I have left with you. But I think I get it now. And I'm happy for you. For you and Cartman. You two are great together, and it took me a night of complete self-realization to figure this out. I know now that I was putting up a front with my feelings for you. Now that I look at it, it's not that hard to get over you. I just made it that way, because I didn't know what I know now."

"Which is?"

"Wendy, I'm in love with someone else." I say it blunt and to the point. I just can't seem to say the name 'Kyle' in with it. What is holding me back?

"You are in love with someone else," she says, more like a statement rather than a question. She sounds almost perturbed. "Stan, you can't confuse random make out girls with love. They've got to MEAN something to you. If this is another attempt to get me ba-"

I stop her right there. "Wendy, I'm in love with Kyle."

She doesn't say anything. I continue. "I have been, for a really long time now. It's hard to explain, but I know its true. And for some unknown reason, I found this all out the night of that party."

Continued silence on the other end.

"I kissed him. I kissed Kyle, and I liked it."

I can feel her presence looming over the telephone line. I can hear her almost growling. Is she mad?

"You love Kyle?" she finally speaks. "No wait. You're _in_ love with Kyle? Stan, how can that even begin to be true? You aren't g…" She trails off.

"But you see, I am."

"You can't be. You were with me. We made love. How can that happen if you don't even like girls? If you don't like me?" She sounds heartbroken, and I realize this was probably not the best way to go about it. I needed closure from our relationship, though, and I am feeling up to this challenge.

"I like you plenty. I told you, I still love you. But its Kyle I want to be with." I take a deep breath. "And Wendy, he doesn't want to be with me."

She laughs the most awkward, nervous laugh I have ever heard anyone laugh. "Holy shit, Stan. Why the fuck are you telling me all of this?"

I pull back, hurt. I was hoping that she, of all people, would understand. You can't help how you feel. "I'm telling you this because I need someone to talk to me! Tell me how to deal! Tell me what to do now." She was good at that when we were together.

"You want me to tell you how to seduce Kyle into being with you? And why would you expect me to do something like that?" Her anger is full force now, and I'm finding this hard to believe. "Stan, you were MY boyfriend, and you loved ME. You didn't love your drug-dependant loser of a friend Kyle. When we were together, you were thinking of ME."

I blink my eyes several times. Wendy can be a real monster if she wants to be. "This has _nothing_ to do with you and me, Wendy. What's happened in the past stays in the past. I just need some help."

"Oh ho! You certainly do, Stanley Marsh." I fucking hate it when she calls me by my name. Why is she being this bitchy? She couldn't be jealous…could she?

"I'm calling back Eric, you and I are finished talking." Her words pierce through me like a sword. She is shutting me up before I have even unloaded. I am going to explode if I can't find someone to talk to!

"Wendy, please. You are being ridiculous! You and I both kn-"

_Click_.

Silence. Dial tone. THAT BITCH HUNG UP ON ME! I redial, furiously, this time not in as good of mood to chat. This time, I'm going in to give her a piece of my mind. Something I should have done a LONG time ago. She knows this, which is why she isn't answering. Stupid bitch.

I slam down the phone angrily, and try to figure out what to do next.

---

_Cartman's POV_

"Hello?" I answer in question, already knowing its Wendy. "Do you mind telling me what that was all about?"

I hear her pant on the other end. Something is wrong. She told me she had to take a phone call that interrupted us. I didn't question at the time and let her do her own thing. I hope it wasn't someone to upset her. I didn't want to see my dear Wendy upset.

"I'm fine," she says, between gritting her teeth and muttered breath. Now I know she doesn't think I'm going to leave it at that.

"No, you aren't, honey. Who was that?" I poke and prod until I think she is going to tear _me_ apart.

"It was nobody. Just some jerk that's playing a trick on me," she explains finally, managing to calm her nerves a bit.

"Want me to kick him in the nuts?" I ask half-serious. I'd do it for her in a heart beat if she asked me to.

"No, he can't help his own stupidity. He's just an asshole who is trying to win me over by telling me some far-fetched lie."

This angers me. How DARE someone try to take her away from me? I know that having an incredibly gorgeous girlfriend is going to put me in positions I'd rather not be in—such as the jealous boyfriend—but no jerk wad will _ever_ lay a finger on MY Wendy. "Let me at him, I'll mess him up good," I fire back.

Its strange, but she is laughing now. Laughing at what I said?

"Oh Eric, you are so adorably clueless."

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

"Aye!" I catch myself yelling, offended. I don't care if the word adorable WAS in that sentence…clueless is not a compliment. I don't want to hear anything about me from her unless it's a compliment. "Just tell me who the fucker is, and I'll kick his ass when I get there." By there, I am referring to the fact that I am indeed visiting her at Stanford next weekend. I know it will only have been three weeks, but you'd want to be with her every waking second of the day if you were me too.

Finally she stops laughing. "Its not someone you need to meet. You already know him."

Once again, Wendy's vagueness confuses me, and I am almost ready to give up on this conversation when…

"You live with the ass."

STAN? I thought he liked Kyle! Hahaha, oh…

OOOH! That bastard lied to me! He tried to get on my good side so he could talk to Wendy! What a backstabbing cocksucker. I can't believe that Stan would sink so low. I knew he didn't like us together, but damn! This is immature even for him. Although I must admit deliciously scheming. I always had an eye for schemes. Wait. No. Bad. BAD Stan.

"What the fuck did STAN tell you?" I roar. _Now_, it's my business.

She starts laughing again. It makes me uncomfortable.

"He…haha…he told me…AAAAAAAH I'm so frustrated!"

"What!" I want to know!

"He. Oh MY GOD, Eric! He told me the most ridiculous lie conceivable to man!" She really has a knack for building things up.

"WHAT!"

"He told me," and her laughter dies down long enough for her to continue, "he likes Kyle." A second wave of laughter consumes my ear, this one more forced and overdramatic. I chuckle myself.

"Heh, Wendy. I hate to tell you. Actually, I LOVE to tell you this, but," I pause, anticipating her response, which was going to be hilarious! "But, yeah. Its true."

Silence. Maybe she didn't hear me right. I'll say it again.

"Stan does, in fact, like Kyle. He told me himself."

I hear her growl, and I can feel her eyes narrow. Was she really mad? Why would she be mad? She didn't like him anymore, did she?

"Sweetie," I say pleasantly. "You aren't angry about this, are you?" _You better not be_! I want to tell her.

"Stan likes that pot-smoking, red headed, skinny little bookworm?" Whoa, she IS mad! Why the hell is she mad? She broke up with HIM, not the other way around. No time for jealousy, Wendy. I am your current boyfriend. Remember that.

"Yeah, they made out at the party." I say this casually, and I start to realize how natural it sounds to me. Those two fags actually belong together. They are a perfect match. And that disgusts me.

"THEY MADE OUT! WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY DOING MAKING OUT?" She screeches in my ear, and I hold the phone about six inches away from my ear. She is starting to piss me off. Why is she reacting this way? Its not like they are together. We are together. We are happy. We are fucking happy!

"God, Wendy. Jealous much?" Oh, I can hear her fuming now.

"I AM NOT JEAAAALLLOUS!" she screams, and it reminds me of the time she blew up at us when that substitute teacher Miss Ellen liked Stan. Ha, I know what a lesbian is now. I think she's flown off the deep end once more, and I wish so badly that I could be there to comfort her. But I am here. So all I do is scream right back.

"You are! Why the hell would you be jealous of Jewboy? Stan isn't your boyfriend anymore, REMEMBER?" I say, emphasizing the word 'remember'. Isn't it like a rule that you don't openly get jealous about your ex's new love when you are talking to your current boyfriend? I thought so.

That shuts her up. She realizes that she is being thoughtless. "It just doesn't make any sense. When he and I were together, he was all about the girl, if you know what I mean." Yes, I know what you mean, and no, I don't like having this mental image of you two in my head. "Why would he just switch like that?"

For being such an intelligent woman, she sure was stupid. I sighed. "Stan didn't switch. He's always been. He just never realized it until sometime during the party." I can't believe I'm defending that asshole. You'd think I'm trying to be a nice guy to him now. Entirely not true. I just hate that Wendy is mad at something that she shouldn't be mad at. She has no right. He's not her concern now. I am. And I am pissed.

"Whatever. The poor boy realized he couldn't have any better of a woman than me, so he decided to try out the other side of the rainbow." I laughed to myself. Whatever makes you feel better, my dear. If she doesn't drop this soon, I'm done talking to her for the day.

Another ten minutes of this shit has gone by. Am I really sitting here and listening to her vent about Stan's new interest? I don't need this!

"Wendy, I'm getting off the phone now," I say in between her rants. I doubt she even heard me. "Have a good night. I love you. Sleep well." And I hang up. She was still talking—I am going to hear about this tomorrow. What the hell did I do wrong? She better be in the mood to apologize when I come to see her. I sigh, put my phone on the floor, and stare at the ceiling. Stan and Kyle. Definitely the biggest news to hit my fragile little mind. Yet it doesn't bother me. I'm not even fazed.

Maybe I'm turning into a pussy.


	8. Can't Hardly Wait

Once again, I'd like to give a big thanks to my loyal fans. Last time, I took the time to thank each one individually, and I didn't get as many reviews: ( Just know you guys are great. I plan on wrapping this story up soon, but there are still a few decent chapters left. I'm not sure about this one though. You be the judge. Read on!

Chapter 8- **Can't Hardly Wait**

Kyle drove abnormally slowly on the highway back up to school, taking extra precaution to miss Stan. It was Monday morning, and Stan had a 10:00 class. Kyle had purposely scheduled all of his classes for noon and later—he couldn't deal with the hell of morning. Throughout high school, his mom had ruined those precious hours for him by routinely waking him up at the butt crack of dawn with a quick pull to the curtain and some utterly annoying morning tune. Kyle vowed to himself to _never_ wake up that early again, even if his life depended on it.

That's why it was so surprising to him that he stayed all night at Kenny's, when he could have easily drove back Sunday night. It was good for him, though. He needed time away from the drama that was his life.

Stan in particular.

A lot of truths came out for Kyle during his stay at Kenny's. He realized that he was not at all afraid of Stan's love. Actually, he was beginning to welcome it. Having the love of your best friend wasn't going to be a bad thing.

The problem was that Kyle was unsure of how _he_ still felt about the whole situation. He knew he had been an ass, and for that, he was going to come up with some grand gesture of apology to make Stan's heart melt. But then again, he didn't want to lead the poor boy on either.

He was so torn up over his emotions, he missed the exit for his school, bringing him into unknown territory. Although Kyle was a genius, he was God-awful with directions. He soon found himself without a clue as to where he was, and unsure of where he was heading. The highway had ended, and he was driving straight through downtown Denver.

This terrified the redhead. He hated city traffic, and he hated not knowing where he was going. His brain craved logic, and there was no such thing around for miles. Perhaps _that_ was why the whole Stan ordeal was bugging the shit out of him.

Logically, he couldn't be with Stan. It was just too damn difficult. Being gay would be one thing. But he wasn't gay. How could he make a relationship work with his best friend? A male?

Emotionally, he had already admitted several times he loved the guy. Stan had been there since the very beginning, and Kyle treasured their friendship more than anything in the whole world. He never wanted to leave Stan. When they had made plans to go to college, Kyle swore he would go wherever Stan decided to go, or at in least close proximity to him. He couldn't see his life without his best friend. Already, these past few weeks had lost all meaning without Stan around.

Now, was he _in love_ with him? This was the part he was unsure of. Stan could easily be datable. He was incredibly handsome, kind, beautiful, inside and out. He was a little jealous at times, but Kyle would never have to worry about that, because he would never be looking at another guy. He wasn't gay.

Kyle kept telling himself that. _Maybe if I say it enough, I'll actually start to believe it,_ he thought.

"Whoa!" he said to himself. "Where did that come from?"

He pulled his car into a shady looking gas station and slammed on the breaks. Talking to himself had been something that had gotten him through tough times, but this conflict within could not go on.

"I AM NOT GAY!" he cried, aware that innocent bystanders had walked up to see what the commotion was about. "I have to find out where the fuck I'm going. In this damn city, AND in life." He casually laughed to himself. Kyle's epitomes always reached so many levels. He swiftly turned around, barely avoiding a collision with an unknowing pedestrian. Heading back in the opposite direction, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor to get away as fast as possible. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he missed his turn, or if he was even going the right way. But that didn't matter. He was at a dead end, so to speak. There was nowhere to go but back. Back to comfort. Back to familiar.

"But if go back to what I already know, I'll never know what else there is out there," he noted, talking to himself again. "I can't completely go back. Nothing will ever be the same. All I can do is try another direction."

And that's exactly what he did. Completing the second abrupt turnaround that morning, he successfully maneuvered through a strip mall parking lot, and sailed off in the original direction. Kyle was crazy sometimes.

"I know I can get to where I want to go no matter what road I take." He had so often used metaphors and analogies in his life, and this was yet another example. He didn't have to be at class for another two hours. What did it matter that he was lost on some Colorado highway?

He heard the familiar tune of his cell phone, and quickly cut back to reality.

"Hello?" he asked, not bothering to check caller ID to see who it was.

"Hey Kyle." The clear voice of Kenny could be heard the other line. "Did you make it back okay?" Kenny was always looking out for his friends.

"Nah, I'm actually lost," Kyle replied truthfully. "I got all philosophical on myself and now I don't have a fucking clue where I am." He glanced around, as Denver's skyline became a blur in his rearview mirror.

He heard laughter on the other end. "You sure you weren't just trying to avoid Stan again? Cause you know, you're gonna have to face him some time."

"I know," Kyle replied, shortly. "I just need to avoid him until this weekend. Cartman will be gone, we can do…whatever it is we want to do…"

"Oh, shit, Kyle! Thinking of sex already? Damn, that's fast," Kenny joked.

"NO, I'M NOT THINKING OF SEX," Kyle protested forcefully. Truth be told, he _had_ thought of sex, among other thoughts. What it would be like, how weird it would be. It was all part of the crazy chaotic confusion that surrounded his head like a dense fog. Kenny knew this, but said nothing.

"Alright, dude. Calm down," he instead suggested. "You've got yourself all turned around, it seems like. Is there any way I can help?"

"Yeah. You can look online and tell me where St. Rt. 6 leads to."

Kenny was at work, but the owner let him borrow her computer in exchange for some 'favors'. Kyle grumbled as Kenny recited some directions on how to get back on course. Kyle had strayed so far away from his school; he was now heading toward Wyoming. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten there, but with Kenny's help, he spun around, heading south, and 22 minutes later, he was pulling up the creepy alleyway that led to the back of his house.

"Thanks, Kenny," he said. "You've been really great throughout this whole…mess. I appreciate it."

"No prob. Talk to you later, Kyle!"

And Kenny was off the phone. Kyle stepped out of his car and headed inside.

---

_Kyle's POV_

I've done it. I've managed to avoid Stan for yet another entire week. This is really taking a toll on me though. I see him pass me in the hallway, and I want to cry out to him.

I've had a lot of in depth conversations with Kenny. About me. About Stan. And about this new girl he is so completely infatuated with that turned him down. Now, I love the guy, but that is hilarious! Imagine. Kenny McCormick. Getting turned down.

I am no stranger to heartbreak. Yeah, it sounds lame. But I'm not! And it sucks that I am the one _breaking_ the heart. I'm really unsure of how this weekend is going to play out, but Cartman just left a half hour ago, and now's my chance to find out. It's now or never, right? I really wish it were never.

I'm so confused. Even more confused than when I started, because I know I like Stan now. I do. How can't I? He's been all that has occupied my thoughts for three straight weeks. That means I like him, right? No? What am I doing then? This is so horrible. I am scared that our friendship won't withstand this HUGE blow that has been dealt to it. I'm pretty sure Stan hates me now for ignoring the issue. I'm starting to hate myself. There are so many better ways in which I could have handled this…

I squint my eyes one last time, trying to recall anything from that fateful night. I still have no idea what it is we did. I eliminated sex, because I'm pretty sure I would have been sore the next day since…well…yeah. So no sex, what did we do? I guess knowing that is knowing enough? It was more than kiss, and less than sex. So we could have done pretty much anything.

I sigh. I wish I knew. Somehow, I feel like that knowledge could make this weekend better for some reason.

No time to think about it now. I glance at my watch. _4:48_. At 5:00 I am going to go to Stan's room. I'm going to! Just wait and see.

---

At 5:00 on the dot, Kyle forced himself downstairs, determined to confront Stan once and for all. He slowly pushed open his bedroom door, once again fearing what possibilities were to come. He held his breath and knocked on Stan's door.

The door creaked open, and Kyle peered inside. The room was dark and empty. Stan's bed was unmade, and on the bed was a pile of scattered clothes. His closet appeared to have been torn apart, with shoes, pants, and shirts strewn everywhere on the floor. Kyle had never seen his room so messy.

He casually strolled past the clothes pile, and made a place for himself on the bed. Forgetting that he hadn't breathed in awhile, he slowly exhaled. He had slight feelings of disappointment and sadness as he looked around the room once more. Stan wasn't there. And Kyle was alone. Alone in Stan's room. He was unsure of what to do next.

Glancing around the room, his eyes came to focus on a small yellow post-it note on Stan's bedside table. The words were scribbled down in a hurry, but Kyle could make out what it said:

_Olive Garden 5:30_

_check for movie listings_

Kyle stared long and hard at the note. He looked around for another clue as to what that meant. Noticing that Stan's screensaver was on his computer, he quickly trotted over to the computer, plopping himself in the cheap fold up chair in front of it. He waved the mouse and the screen came to life. There were several conversations still up from Stan's buddy list, but the one in front shocked Kyle the most.

**Jermy4866**: so we still on for tonite?  
**StanthemaN**: you know it  
**StanthemaN**: I don't know what to wear  
**Jermy4866**: lol, you sound like my sister  
**Jermy4866**: doesn't matter, you look good in everything  
**StanthemaN**: yeah? well I'll just wear everything then  
**Jermy4866**: sounds grrreat  
**StanthemaN**: you know, my house will be empty tonight  
**Jermy4866**: correction, THAT sounds grrrreat   
**StanthemaN**: so I'll pick you up at 5  
**Jermy4866**: can't wait  
**Jermy4866 signed off at 3:36pm**

Kyle gasped. "He has a _date_!" He fidgeted with the pencils on the desk, rereading the conversation over and over. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He buried his face in his hands, more perplexed than ever.

"Did you really expect him to wait on something he never thought would happen?" Kyle asked himself. He sighed, and backed away from the computer. He glanced once more at the yellow note near his bed, but was distracted when he saw the tip of something underneath the bed. Curiously, he tiptoed over to the unknown object, and pulled it out. It was a gay porn magazine. He dropped it as soon as he picked it up, and reality started to sink in. Stan was gay. He was on a date with another guy, and Kyle was in his room, feeling pangs of jealousy. Jealousy? But why?

The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach caused him to back out of the room slowly. It was too late. He had gathered all of this courage to confront Stan and maybe, just maybe, see what happens…and now he was on a date. It was too much.

That night, Kyle felt like doing absolutely nothing. He fixed himself an individual serving of ramen noodles—cheap food for the college kid—and melted into the couch, playing video games. After losing interest, he browsed through the three hundred channels on their big screen TV before settling on some B-rated horror movie that included zombies and some cheesy firefighter that could save everyone from death. It was the most awful waste of money ever spent to produce a movie, but Kyle wasn't really paying attention anyway. He was too busy focusing on the door for that dreaded moment when Stan would appear, along with his dinner partner.

It was nearing midnight, and there were still no signs of Stan. Frustrated and impatient, Kyle broke out the whiskey in the cupboard and downed a shot. A few minutes later, he took another.

This wasn't typical Kyle behavior. He never _had_ been a big drinker, but at this point in time, he wasn't thinking too rationally. He swallowed another.

"Where the fuck is he?" he angrily asked the air. He knew compulsive drinking wouldn't bring Stan home any sooner. But it might be easier to deal with Stan's new boyfriend that way. One more.

Kyle glanced at the microwave clock. 12:03. He took a seat at the kitchen table, almost guarding the back door. From his seat, he had a clear view of both the back and front doors. There was no escaping…

Fifteen minutes passed excruciatingly slow, and Kyle was starting to feel the effects of his binge. He had grown restless and even more impatient, ready to claw the bastard who had taken away Stan. He conjured up scenarios in his head about how Stan was probably behind the movie theater with the mystery man, getting his. Kyle shuddered at the thought of Stan with a guy. Then he tried to picture himself with Stan.

He couldn't do it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see himself in Stan's arms, relishing him with kisses. Yet he was still so curious how it worked before, and what it would be like.

Thinking of Stan made Kyle lonely. He was, and had been, without a best friend for the past few weeks, and it was really starting to hurt. He longed for Stan's laughter. His voice. His presence. He missed the guy so much, he found himself back in his room.

The lights were off, and the computer had created a soothing buzz that filled the air. Kyle sighed as he fell atop of Stan's bed. Cradling his head with his hands, he tried to imagine his life without Stan.

He couldn't do that either. Stan was inevitably going to be in his life—it wasn't a choice. He needed Stan in his life. He loved him.

Kyle soon discovered his vision was increasingly growing blurry, and his head was starting to throb. He fell back onto the cool sheets, catching a whiff of the shampoo that both he and Stan used. Stan had been using it since he was in high school. Kyle had always just thought it was another shampoo. Cleaned his hair. But as he lay in Stan's bed, breathing it in, it was the sweetest aroma that had ever permeated his nostrils. He began thinking of the time that he and Stan went on spring break together, and they went skinny dipping with two very outgoing girls. After the brisk swim, they had rinsed off in the shower together, eager to spend the rest of the night with the mystery women. Stan quickly slopped the shampoo all over his body in an attempt to clean up, filling the steamy air with that incredible scent. Kyle smiled at the thought, grabbing a pillow to hold on to. That was such an amazing vacation for him.

During that very same trip, Stan accidentally walked in on Kyle naked. He wondered if Stan liked him back then, without really realizing it. And Kyle had seen Stan in nothing except his boxers many times before. He had always thought the guy had a nice body—he had been envious of it during high school. But all of this was innocent friendship thoughts and actions. Now it was different, because Stan _wanted_ Kyle's body.

Kyle clutched the pillow tighter. He was still so unsure of how to handle his friend, but he knew now that he could not avoid him any longer. It was going to happen tonight. What was going to happen, he didn't know.

He felt himself grow sleepy, falling in love with the comfort of Stan's soft bed. He drifted in and out of consciousness, soon falling fast asleep.

---

_Stan's POV_

I know I told Jeremy that my house was empty tonight, but I'm just not ready. Not ready for anything really. I'm so worked up over this whole Kyle thing, I'm afraid my mind has been somewhere else entirely this whole night. Jeremy is looking at me with big dough eyes, and I know he wants to come inside. But I'm just not ready.

After our dinner (which was lovely by the way), we went to watch a movie. He wanted to see some mushy romantic flick, and I wanted to see the die-hard action flick, so we compromised on a comedy. Which was okay, I really didn't get into it, but he thought it was a riot. I don't know, I just can't focus knowing that my best friend in the entire world has disowned me. I've started to think about moving out of our house. I know it would be a burden on the guys trying to find someone else, but I'm starting to feel uncomfortable sitting in my own room, and that is not a pleasant feeling.

Jeremy is leaning in to kiss me again. I can't do it. We've made out for a while, and he's a pretty good kisser. Not as good as Kyle, but dammit, I have to get that off my brain. ITS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, MARSH! Get over it.

"Ugh, Jeremy, I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore," I regretfully say, knowing this is a harsh end to a seemingly perfect night for him. But its 1:30 in the morning, and all I can think about is climbing into my wonderful, inviting bed. Alone. I'm drawing the line. He cannot come upstairs. I have to take him home. I drove him back to my house, getting his hopes up, and now I have turn right around and take him back.

His expression changes to concern. "Is everything okay, Stan? You've been kind of out of it all night."

Ah, so he DID notice it. Oops. I shrug my shoulders. "There's just a lot going on in my life that I've been thinking about."

He smiles warmly. "Is there anything I can do to help? I hope I haven't been too pushy with us. I know it's a hard time right now…you know…coming out and all." God, Jeremy, you have no idea. I had told him that he was the first guy I've been out on a date with, and he pretty much knows that I just found out that I like guys. But he does not know—nor will I tell him—about Kyle.

I attempt a smile back. I know its weak. "No, really, you've been great. Thank you so much for understanding." I am being honest when I say this. If Kyle _weren't_ on my mind every waking minute of my day, I might be able to see how wonderful Jeremy really is. I bet we could be really good together. But its not going to happen. At least not now.

His smile fades. "You are in love with someone else. I can see that." He turns away from me. "I'm just glad that you gave me a chance."

Am I _that_ fucking obvious? I know my expression mirrors this thought.

"You are an incredible guy, Stan. I hope that whoever it is, he'll make you really happy." He sighs. "I know that sounds trite, but I really do wish you the best."

I am speechless.

"And, you know, if it doesn't work out…you know who to call," he adds with a heartfelt smile. Wow, is this guy for real? I'd be pissed as hell for getting strung along.

"Jeremy, I-" I start.

"Sssh," he tells me, and puts his index finger over my lips. He presses his lips against mine in the most mind-blowing breakup kiss I have ever encountered. My body falls to mush, and my feet go numb. I gently reach up to his sandy blonde locks and ruffle them with my hands. He has the softest hair…

He pulls away, panting heavily. I can see in his eyes that he does not want go home, and for a split second I contemplate inviting him up anyway. Somebody that can kiss like that can certainly take my mind off of Kyle. But I'm not going to use him like that. Its wrong, and I'm through thinking with my dick. Its gotten me nowhere in the past. I don't expect that to change anytime soon. But I will compliment him.

"Jesus Christ! you are a good kisser!" I blurt in one jumbled sentence. My mouth is still in awe. I wish I could like this guy so much more…

He cracks a smile, and looks over at me. He is hot. He is fucking hot, and I can imagine what it would be like to be with him.

STOP IT STAN! I am sounding like Kenny now.

"Don't forget it," he flirts, playfully. I am definitely keeping his number in the back of my mind.

"I'll see you in class, Stan," he says in all seriousness, abruptly switching tones. "Don't worry, I'll walk myself home. It's a nice night out."

No its not. Its cold as hell. But I don't argue. I think if I ended up driving him home, we'd kiss like that again and I'd find myself in his bedroom with the lights off before I know it. I can't take that risk. "O..Okay," I stutter, unsure of what how to end this. "I'll see you there."

Yep, I'm lame.

He smiles at me one last time before opening the door and disappearing into the darkness of the night. I estimate he lives about fifteen minutes away from me, because it took me about five minutes to drive to his house.

I remain in the car for a few minutes longer, soaking up what had just happened, and calming myself down. I'm telling you, that kiss got me mighty aroused. I'm not walking into that house until this thing goes down.

Ah, screw it; it's been long enough. I grab my jacket and keys, and make my way to the door, cautiously turning the knob. What if Kyle is inside? I scold myself for thinking he would ever be in there. He disappears on the weekends, remember? To get away from me. The guy who turned his life into a living hell. I reach over and turn on the backroom light. I'm hungry.

Seeing the kitchen in plain view, I make my way over to the fridge. We have zero food in this joint. I'm going to have to fix myself something. I glance through the cupboards, and decidedly pick out chicken flavored ramen noodles. They'll be good enough. I grab the black pot from the sink, and begin to fill it with water.

There is a shot glass in the sink. There is a shot glass in the sink, and there is a bottle of whiskey on the counter. Come to think of it, Kyle's car _was_ in the alley. Whoa, did he stay here tonight? Why would he be drinking whiskey? Maybe he's fucking that girl from the party. Or some random girl. Any girl to remove any kind of gay off his body. I sigh. I wish he felt differently.

I eat my noodles double time, eager to get up to bed. I know it's a bad habit to eat directly before you go to bed, but give me a fucking break. Its not like I do this all the time, and I've had a stressful day. Week. Month. You get the picture.

Life sure was easier when I didn't kiss my best friend and tell him I'm in love with him. God, I'm such an idiot! How will we _ever_ recover from that? I'm pretty sure our relationship is forever ruined. I'm never going to get my Kyle back.

And I love him so much. Boy, do I love him. I would do anything for that guy. I would put my feelings aside if I got just one more chance to talk to him. Friend to friend. I just crave his companionship.

I make my way up the stairs. Another cold, lonely night with no one to talk to. It would have been wrong to invite Jeremy up here though. Damn, that boy can kiss. But he's not the one for me. And it would be very wrong for me to continue with our relationship knowing full well that the only person who's on my mind is the one person I can't have. Life sucks ass.

As I reach my door, I get this weird sensation in the bottom of my gut. Probably the ramen noodles doing a reverse back flip into my stomach. Food after midnight never sits well. But no, this is different.

I turn the doorknob, and wander into my room. It is very dark and quiet, but I swear there is something lurking in my bed. I search for my lamp, finding the switch and flipping it on.

I gasp in pure amazement, shock, terror, and excitement at who is lying on my bed.

"Kyle?" I say aloud, knowing full well that is who it is. What is he doing in here? In my bed!

Kyle looks so cute when he sleeps. His arms are hugging my pillow for dear life, and his mouth is slightly open. I want to run over to him and give him a great big hug, but I know that wouldn't be appropriate. I'm so indescribably happy he is in here. Happy, for once, that he might be doing a noble act and confronting his fear. Maybe he feels the same way as I do? Has he been harboring these feelings all along? Is he here to tell me he loves me too? Calm down, Stan, it's probably not what you think.

Still, I can dream. I imagine him waking up, running over to me, and encasing my hand within his. I smile at him, and he gazes deep into my eyes. "Oh I love you so much Stan," I hear him say, and he apologizes for all the wrongs he's caused. I apologize for ever having that shit X in our house and we make up. And it's beautiful. But I'm getting way ahead of myself. The chances of him even apologizing are probably slim. He's probably in here cause he needs something.

While I am speculating, he stirs in his sleep. Did I wake him?

I stop breathing. What happens if he wakes up? I'm going to just leave him here. I can easily go downstairs and sleep on the couch, pretending that it doesn't bother me that my best friend is snuggled in my bed after not talking to me for way too long. After an eternity of me staring at him wide-eyed, I see his right eye twitch open.

He looks at me with—I don't know how to say it. Almost happiness. I take a deep breath, unprepared for what comes next.

"Stan?"

---

Alright, that's it for now! More homework and work work. I'll continue this later.

Freaky thing…I randomly chose route 6 out of my head, and turns out there IS a route 6 north of Denver. Weird…


	9. Returning the Favor

Okay, people. I want to thank you so much, those of you who reviewed. I know a ton of people read that didn't review, and I'll thank you too, even though I don't know what your thoughts are over this whole thing. Maybe I didn't move you enough to leave a review? Anyway, this is the final chapter, excluding the epilogue. I have already started to write that, and I feel that it is probably unnecessary to the plot, but adds that extra oomph in there that I'm looking for. So look for that in the near future.

As for this story as a whole—it was my first attempt at a chaptered South Park fic. I am happy with how it turned out, and when my school work load lightens, I suspect I'll try another. Maybe a one-shot this time. Whatever works. But for now, school is going to have to come first. So thank you once again!

Chapter 9- **Returning The Favor**

_Stan's_ _POV_

My body freezes over. Whoever thought hearing your own name could sound so wonderful and painful at the same time? He hasn't said my name so encouraging like that in a really long time. I can't remember the last time.

I am unsure of what to do next. He blinks twice, trying his best to wake up. I watch as he rubs his eyes and sits up on the bed. What is he doing here?

"What time is it?" he asks casually. Three weeks of not talking to me, and he asks me the time. I guess I can't be too picky. Although something is up—he plainly has a watch that he could look at. Did he know I was out with someone? I panic. What if…just WHAT IF he was coming to talk to me earlier, and I wasn't here so he's too tired to do it tonight? That wouldn't be fair. He's already here!

"Its past one," I reply shortly. WHY ARE YOU HERE, I want to scream out.

I can see that his eyes are just now adjusting to the soft light being put out from my desk lamp. He looks confused. Oh no, he's taken something else and he's not going to remember how he got in here.

"How was your date." His question is cold and said in the form of a statement. He doesn't really care how my date went. He's trying to make small talk, though, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "Is he downstairs waiting for you?"

"No."

His body shifts positions, and I notice his shoulders fall. Could he be just as nervous as I am? I hope so. Dammit, I deserve an apology.

"What happened?"

I glare at him. "That's really none of your business, Kyle."

For a moment, I feel guilty at what I just said. His green eyes look up at me, pleadingly. But I'm not going to be a pushover about this. He hurt me pretty badly, and he needs to know this. I return with an unforgiving stare. He's going to have to try a lot harder than this.

He lets out a loud sigh. So loud, I think he purposely does it so I can hear him. "Fair enough," he replies, and nods his head.

Whoa. He just got off the bed, and he is walking directly toward me. Holy shit! He is standing only a couple feet away from me, and I can feel my insides rise in temperature. My palms are definitely sweating. My whole body is sweating! Great. Just fucking great.

"Stan, I haven't been a very good friend." That's an understatement. "Actually, I've been a downright shitty one."

That's more like it. My eyes show mercy already! Damn, I AM a pushover. I straighten out my expression, ready to listen to a possible explanation. The time has come. This may be the turning point of our friendship…if there is a friendship left. I squeeze my palms together and tense up. I have to at least appear like a hardass. Truth is, I've already forgiven him.

He looks down at the ground. I follow his eyes to his feet, which are kicking at the carpet. I glance back up to his face, which is tilted and all I can see is red curls. He nervously runs his fingers through his hair. God, how I want to play with his hair. I've always loved that hair.

"I didn't handle things well," he says at last, looking back up at me once again. He takes a step closer, and my heart is pounding out of my chest.

"But I think I know how to absolve things," he continues.

He reaches up to my own face, which seems to weigh 1,000 pounds, along with the rest of my body. Before I can even register what is going on, he pulls my head to his, finding my lips with his. An electric shock jolts throughout my body, and the weight has instantly been lifted. I almost collapse in exhaustion. He pulls my body nearer, wrapping his other arm around my waist. I feel his hand press into my back, causing me to fall even further into him.

His other arm slowly falls from my face, to my shoulders, to my waist to join the other. I bring my arms to his shoulders, playing with those beautiful tresses of hair.

His tongue slowly enters my mouth, and I welcome it warmly with my own. He's so beautiful. And such a great kisser. I open my eyes to make sure it is really Kyle who is kissing me. I can taste the whiskey, but he doesn't seem to be under the influence. His eyes weren't glazed over this time. That's a good sign.

He adjusts his position of his hands to my upper back. He is cradling me with his arms now. And his kiss is getting deeper and deeper. Every time he starts to pull away, he comes back with even more passion. I feel one of his hands against the back of my head now—he is guiding my kisses. If ever I was unsure of my love, I know now. Deep in love, and faller deeper with every passing second.

He decides to pull away once and for all, but his hand finds its way to the side of my face again. He brushes back the sweaty black strands of hair on the side of my face, and I mold my face to his hand. I know I'm grinning like an idiot. Do I care? NO!

I open my eyes and fall into his deep, entrancing gaze. I see a speckle of gold right below the pupil, and through that speck, I see at last Kyle's soul.

He smiles at me warmly. It gives me goose bumps. "I'm sorry, Stan. I'm so sorry for treating you like that. You didn't deserve _any_ of it. I said some things that I should never have said. They aren't true anyway." His breath is warm and I feel it on my mouth, we are still that close. I want to kiss him again. I lean back in to meet his lips. He gently kisses back, but pulls away quickly. I think he wants to apologize more. No worries, Kyle. I FORGIVE YOU!

"Kenny….Kenny told me to do that," he begins. "I wasn't handling our situation. At all. You know this, I was avoiding you."

I simply nod my head. Captain Obvious strikes again.

"Last weekend, I went down to see Kenny, because God knows if Cartman found out about this, we'd be in hell for the rest of our lives." I decide to wait to tell him that Cartman already knows. "But Kenny's a great guy, and he got me thinking. You know, about us. And where we stand. Because I can't ignore you, dude. I can't be without you in my life."

I like where this is going.

"Stan, you are my best friend. I can't lose you to something so stupid. And truthfully, I was really unsure of how I felt about you. You know I love you. I just wasn't sure if I was…in love with you. You know?"

Again, I nod, now unsure of where this is heading. I'm praying for the best.

"So Kenny told me that I had to kiss you. To find out if I had feelings like that for you." He pauses. "I didn't want to do it to begin with, because I didn't want to hurt you if I didn't feel the same way. But I decided its our friendship at stake. I'm willing to try anything. And now I know how I feel."

He stops there? What? HOW DO YOU FEEL! I stare at him blankly.

"Stan, I like you. I like everything about you."

…

"But?" I ask. There is ALWAYS a but in that type of sentence.

He smiles at me, revealing his perfect white teeth. "But nothing. I want to see where this goes."

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I can't breathe! I'm hyperventilating! I can't feel my legs. I can't feel my entire body! Its all floating up in the clouds somewhere. Thank you, God! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you…

Okay, so he's not confessing his undying love for me, but did I really expect him to? Did I really expect him to whisk me off to a faraway land and live with me happily ever after?

Did I really think he was even going to kiss me? Hell, I never thought he was going to talk to me again.

I try my best to remain outwardly calm and collected. I want to hear it once more. "What are you saying, Kyle?"

He leans in and passionately presses his lips against mine, once more. I've died and gone to heaven. He tastes like a saint. I love him. I melt at his touch, and he instantly revives me with another batch of kisses. When he discovers I'm stable once again, strong enough to support myself, he pulls away and gently releases me from his grasp. I feel like falling to the floor.

"Stan," he says, barely above a whisper. "We have to take things…slow."

I look at him with intrigue.

"I mean, I'm not used to this, you know? I can't just automatically feel normal being with…a guy. I'm asking you to be patient."

Kyle is so adorable. I love him even more, and I brush his cheek with the back of my hand. "I would never do anything you don't want to do, Ky."

---

Wendy ran down the corridor of the airport to be at the security gates before Eric. She had left her dorm too late due to some last minute decorations, and she was sure she wouldn't make it in time.

Sure enough, Eric was sitting on the ground near the security checkpoint, looking glum. He looked like his grandmother had just died. And from his appearance and stature, she figured he'd been there for a while.

"I'm so sorry!" she called out to him across the hall, eager to reach his side. His eyes looked up, but his face continued the same gloomy expression. As she moved nearer, his hurt evolved into a deep smile.

"Its about time, woman!" he yelled back. She breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't mad. She knew she already had enough to make up for—she didn't need to add the lack of punctuality. Her run slowed down into a trot as she reached him, throwing her arms around his shoulders in a giant bear hug. He was still on the ground, but he returned the hug with equal force.

Wendy knew that their fights the past week had almost prevented her from seeing him. He had threatened if she didn't stop obsessing over Stan and Kyle, he wasn't going to be the good boyfriend he is and come visit her. And so Wendy bit her tongue and tried to forget about the whole situation. She had to see Eric. He was her life.

Wendy wasn't jealous of Kyle. She wasn't sure why she acted that way on the phone, but it had nothing to do with being jealous. Perhaps the complete shock of finding out the one she thought she was going to marry was the now the one who was making out with guys could have had something to do with it.

Wendy was always trying to come up with scientific data for each and every circumstance in life, and she had struggled with many theories. She battled the idea that she turned Stan gay several times. That was just too much to handle. Deep down she knew that it wasn't true. But it was weird to know that she was the first and last girl Stan had been with. Or at least been in love with.

Then she started to theorize the mechanics of Stan and Kyle. Eric Cartman had told her since day one that they were a couple of fags, but she, of course, never took that literally. She had no reason to. It turned out her boyfriend had been right all along. And that made Wendy angry. She was a competitive person, and she had fought with Eric at times for Stan's straight image. There was one time that Eric went on a several day kick in high school claiming that Stan was checking out other guys in the locker room. Wendy had seen this as an obvious attempt to win her over. By starting rumors that her boyfriend was gay. Now she was starting to wonder if they truly were rumors…

None of that mattered now, because Eric was kissing her with more passion than she ever had with Stan.

Not that Stan wasn't a good boyfriend. He was amazing, and he treated her like gold. She often felt mismatched with him for some reason, though, and when she discovered her feelings for Eric, it all came together. Wendy had loved Eric Cartman even before she broke up with her old flame. She just hadn't realized it.

Stan was right. She of all people should have been one to listen to him that day when he needed someone to talk to. She was concerned for him and wanted to call to apologize, but she had a feeling that Stan wouldn't want to even hear her voice. She was so sure that his outburst at the party with her and Eric had caused their friendship to falter, but in truth, it was her neglect.

After they had broken up, Wendy wanted nothing to with Stan. She got over him rather quickly and painlessly, much to his dismay. He was still stuck on her, making pathetic attempts to win her back. For awhile, it was as if he was actually trying to _compete_ with Eric. What he didn't realize was that Wendy's heart already belonged to Eric.

Eric extended his hands out, signaling for Wendy to pull him off the ground. She was surprisingly strong for being so small, and she yanked him up in one swift motion.

"Where to now, Wends?" he asked, brushing off his backside. He lightly nudged her with his elbow. "That bathroom over there is probably clean enough…" He smiled widely.

She giggled. "Ew! You are gross! Public bathrooms are gross! Wipe that grin off your face, it AIN'T gonna happen!" Wendy cringed at the thought of getting it on in an airport bathroom. She had other plans for the evening.

"This is for you," she informed, and handed over a folded piece of parchment paper sealed with a deep blue sticker. She watched Eric as he accepted her gift and curiously opened it. His eyes scanned the letter, moving left to right with each new line. She had rewritten the damn thing so many times, she had it memorized.

Dearest Eric,

You are cordially invited to attend a highly exclusive celebration held at 303 Whiteford Hall on the evening of September 23rd at 7pm. Dress attire is casual. R.S.V.P. with a kiss.

She smiled warmly after receiving a soft kiss on the cheek. She knew it was a corny invitation, but it would fit perfectly with the mood she was going for. "You will be attending then, yes?" she asked, playing the part of an eloquent young woman.

Eric picked up on the role playing, gently bowing his head. Wendy positioned her arm so that he could easily hook his into hers, and they cleared the busy aisle way.

Once outside in the parking lot, Wendy opened the door for Eric, and politely shut it when he was secured. She glided over to the driver's side, taking a seat herself. On the drive to her dorm, she said nothing. When Eric would try to find out what was going on, she simply smiled. Nothing was going to ruin her night. Everything had to play out perfectly.

Wendy was a planner. Even when she was three years old, if she didn't have everything just right, down to the very last detail, she would go insane. And she would pout. Now that she was older and more mature, she would probably just go insane.

"Wendy, seriouslah, what is this all about?" Eric had started to get fidgety in his seat. The drive to Stanford from the airport was at least forty-five minutes. It was hard to keep quiet that whole time. Even though it had only been about five minutes.

"You'll see!" was her response. Short and sweet.

"Wends, you don't need to go through all this trouble for me. I'm happy just being here with you. Getting to spend time with my girl!" He leaned over the center console and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I don't need anything fancy."

She tilted her head the opposite direction of his puckered lips and smiled. Her eyes remained glued to the road. "You are getting what you deserve, Eric, and that's final."

And that's how it was until they reached her dorm room.

"So, will we be seeing your roommate at all?" Eric asked, hopefully. It was so obvious what he wanted.

Wendy had not stopped smiling since the airport. "Eric, would you keep your pants on for two seconds? I promise it will be worth it." She led him up the long flights of stairs that led to the third floor. It was pointless to take the elevator because it was a ten story dorm complex, and the elevators were slower than an old person on a motorized scooter. They reached the top of the stairs, Wendy in tip-top shape, Eric panting heavily.

"So…you're trying to _kill_ me. I see what your plans are now," he joked. He was still breathing heavily when they arrived in front of Wendy's dorm room.

"This is your last chance to escape, Eric Cartman. Once you enter, there is NO GOING BACK. Do you dare?" Wendy explained, building up a highly anticipated moment.

Eric looked at her lovingly. "You are so cute."

"Is that a yes?" she asked.

He smiled warmly. "Do with me what you shall, miss. I am all yours."

Wendy smiled deviously. "Oh I intend to."

She pushed open the door, leading him into a dark, cluttered room. The walls had been covered with a deep purple blanket, and there were unlit candles strewn about. In the center of the room was a card table, complete with two paper plates, two sets of plastic wear, and two out-of-place wine glasses. In the center of the set up was a small box, wrapped in brown paper with a purple bow on top.

"You may sit down, sir," she instructed, inching a chair out from underneath the table. She gestured over at him to come sit down. He did as he was told.

"It is not all put together yet. Close your eyes please."

Eric raised his eyebrow. "You mean to tell me that Wendy Testaburger isn't prepared?" He knew how much of an organizational freak she was.

"Calm down before I smack you," she responded bluntly. "I am plenty prepared—I just didn't want to leave candles unattended, food out, etc."

"I see," he said.

"Now close your eyes!" she repeated.

Eric closed his eyes.

Wendy scurried about, trying her best to complete last minute details. Eric sat patiently, deciding to give his girlfriend a break for all the obvious hard work and thought she had put into the evening. He smiled at the thought of another surprise like the last one.

When she had completed all the necessary work, she snuck up behind Eric, enveloping him in her arms. She squeezed him tightly, planting a rather juicy kiss on his rosy cheeks. "You can open your eyes now, honey," she spoke softly, but with excitement. Wendy was sure she was going to make up for all her wrongs by creating "the mood."

Eric opened his eyes, revealing a plate of chicken potpie in front of him. The wine glass was a little above halfway with a deep red wine, and all of the candles had been lit, creating the only light to shine in the room. They were just dim enough so that shadows from the wine glasses danced on the deep lavender walls. He hugged Wendy's arms tightly from his sitting position. He was speechless at how romantic his girlfriend could be.

"I made your favorite," she noted, even though that had been pretty obvious to Eric. He had liked potpie since he was a young boy. "Its not much—I don't have a kitchen to slave away in, so its not made from scratch. But it's not entirely gross either. I did-"

"Wends, stop it," Eric demanded, swiveling himself around on the chair to face his beautiful girlfriend. "Its wonderful. Its all wonderful." He leaned up as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his. She was sitting on his lap now, his arms cradling her petite frame. He pulled away. "I love you. You make me so happy."

Wendy's smile extended from ear to ear. "Open the box," she instructed, nodding in its direction.

"What, is there like a bomb in there to blow me up or something? You can collect all the money from my death, I already put it in your name." Eric always had a way of ruining any possible romantic moment with his not-so-humorous wit.

Wendy was getting impatient. He was a kink in her perfect plan. "Eric!" she whined. "Just open it."

Sighing, he slowly picked his large hands off his girlfriend and grabbed the small, wrapped box. It seemed to fit in the palm of his hand. He brought it over to their laps, examining it for the wrapping job. "I don't see any flaws. Job well done, Wends," he announced. She did _not_ want his approval.

"Just open the damn box!" she spoke with her words all shoved together to form one word. Patience was not her greatest virtue.

Eric eyed her suspiciously. "Alright, alright. Jeez, you'd think there really is a bomb in there."

"ERIC!" she shrieked.

He loved to give her a hard time. It was one of the things he loved about her. Being able to get her worked up over nothing. So that he would have something to calm her down for. It was his intent; he just never told her that. He smiled mischievously. "Alright, Wendy. I'll do as you ask." He knew that inside there would be some amazing, un-topable gift that would make him love her more—and make him feel like a bad boyfriend for not thinking of it first. He tore at the wrapping ferociously, not wanting to waste any more time. It was only fun to piss Wendy off to a point.

Eric flipped open the cardboard top to reveal Wendy's gift hidden below. He pulled out several small rectangles of paper, each cut the same way and stapled together at the corner.

"I know its not much, but we had to scrape up all the money we had to fly you here," she explained.

Eric didn't even have to know what it was. Anything homemade from her was always special. He flipped through the pages of her present with a thoughtful expression plastered all over his face. It wasn't confusion, but Wendy took it as so.

"It's a coupon book," she informed. She turned to face Eric's face, just inches away from his big brown eyes and pouty red lips. "Eric. I love you. I'm so sorry about reacting the way I did to Stan's…er…news. I don't know why I did it, I honestly have no feelings for him whatsoever."

"Ah, so this present is to get me to forgive and forget, eh, Wends?" Eric concluded. He smiled at her and squeezed her tightly.

"No! I mean, yes." She stuttered. Then she shook her head. Then she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Opening them once more, she looked into his eyes. "That is not what I meant. Eric. You need to know that you are the only guy I want to be with. This is my way of saying…thank you. You treat me so perfectly. And now its my turn to return the favor."

Eric's smile blossomed into a fully delighted expression. "Favor, you say?" Speedily flipping through the coupons, he searched out the perfect coupon for the moment. "One free back massage, very nice, very nice. Oooo, 2 hours of complaint-free video games! That's so awesome!" Nothing had caught his eye yet.

Wendy watched her boyfriend eagerly sift through to find something appropriately fitting for that moment. She knew he was going for one of the sexual ones. She tensed up with excitement, knowing which one he was probably going to pick. _Good for one night of spine-tingling, incredibly hot sex_. Yeah, she'd put that one in purposely.

Eric's pace through the pages slowed and his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, looking up at Wendy. "Ah, I found it," he noted, obviously proud of his pick.

She smirked at him, grabbing the piece of freshly torn paper out of his hands. She scanned it quickly, and looked back up at his face. Realizing there were words on that coupon that she hadn't expected, she did a double take, comprehending every single letter.

_Present this ticket when desired for a romantic dinner, movie, and choice activity._

Wendy blinked, stunned at his romantic choice. She threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck, showering him with kisses. "Oh Eric!" she cried.

"So about that choice activity…" he started. Wendy pulled back.

"Can it be naked time?" Eric enthusiastically asked. Wendy's smile deepened as she resumed kissing her eager boyfriend.

---

_Kenny's POV_

Kyle gave me a call today. His voice was filled with excitement, and I know exactly what it was he was going to say.

He and Stan are coming home for the day. Stan is going to tell his parents that he is gay. I wish I could be around for that, but he has requested that Kyle and I chill somewhere else. No prob. I really feel so much closer to Kyle after these past few weeks.

I expect them back in a few hours, honestly. They are probably caught up, making out or fucking or doing whatever it is two guys do when they first discover their feelings for each other while the fatass is still away at Wendy's. Hell, I'd be making the most of it.

I have plenty of time before my day becomes solely Kyle/Stan focused. Now, for my dilemma…

This Stacy girl has me perplexed. The other day, I spied on her and her sister doing laundry in the basement. She must come here a lot. Like every weekend maybe? I wonder what college she goes to. I can't figure this one out—she's driving me crazy! I'm completely infatuated with her, and yet, she won't pay the slightest bit of attention to me. Is there something wrong with me? Did I do something wrong? I gave Kyle great love advice, why the hell can't I take my own?

Whoa, did I just say love? I meant relationship. NO! I meant…hot, hot action. Yeah.

Hell no I don't love her. I can't possibly love someone that doesn't even know I exist. That would be preposterous.

Still, I am entranced by this girl. I have to find out. I'm going to go see what's going on.

Damn it, walking down one flight of stairs has never been so grueling. Thank GOD there is Andrea's door. I'm not sure why I'm knocking so timidly. Maybe I am intimidated of this pint-sized girl? Nah, couldn't be.

"Hey Kenny!" Andrea cheerfully greets me, opening the door in a nearly see-through tank top and boy shorts. Damn, damn, DAMN this girl is hot.

"Uh, hey, Andrea," I reply nervously. Even _I_ feel out of this chic's league. And I'm supposedly the king of the ladies. "Is Stacy here?"

She smiles at me with a somewhat naughty expression. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she is inviting me to come in with her eyes.

"No, she's not here this weekend," she returns, equally as bubbly as the statement before. "You know, she's not here _every_ weekend."

She IS flirting with me! She just crooked her neck and gave me the sexiest look if I ever saw one. Damn, this girl is playing hardball. Two can play at that game.

"Oh yeah?" I say. Apparently, my hardballing skills don't work this early in the morning. Fuck the fact that is eleven o'clock.

Haha. She definitely just responded to my lame comment with, "yeah." She is really feisty. If she doesn't stop undressing me with her eyes, I'm going to have to resort to drastic measures.

"Do you want to come in?" she asks me, all angelic like. Like she _doesn't_ know what I am thinking when she answers the door wearing that. I reply with a simple shrug of my shoulders. I was taught earlier in life that you don't want to seem too eager—it will turn the girls away. This tactic is something I've carried with me throughout my many, many, many girls and, to this day, it has not failed once. Except for Stacy.

Once we are inside, Andrea pushes me up against the door she just shut. "God damn, Kenny, you are hot. How have you not wandered into this part of the building earlier?" she breaths in my face. She is definitely almost five inches taller than me, and hovering over me like a hawk. I'm completely immobile. How does this always happen to me? Shit, I'm the luckiest bastard to ever roam this Earth.

She presses her body up against mine, feeling around my mouth with her tongue. She is not a bad kisser, but a little disappointing for the rest of the package. I feel a wandering hand reach around my backside, latching firmly onto my ass. What is it with girls and my ass? GOD!

I reach around and cop a feel myself, knowing full well what it looks like already. I've seen it so many times before in all the skimpy outfits she parades around in. And yeah, its one nice piece of ass. I move my hands northward, resting them around her waist. She pulls hers up to my face, cupping my face inside of them. She pulls away, breathless.

She backs a noticeable amount of steps away from me and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I know that I probably just freaked you out, but, I can't explain it. There is something about you." What? Freaked me out? Hell no! I loved it.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, quasi-concerned.

She shakes her head. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm really very emotional right now."

"Oh?" More caked on emotion.

She stumbles back a few steps and falls into the soft cushions of their living room couch. "Kenny, I'm a mess right now. I understand completely if you want to leave. Guys never want to hear about that shit."

"Fuck, I don't care," I reply honestly. "Who else are you going to tell?" I pull up a chair so that I'm facing her. Her legs are open and inviting. I strain to concentrate on her face, which looks near close to crying.

"You asked why Stacy isn't here. She didn't use to stay here. Its only been recently, since our parents passed away."

My eyes go wide. "Shit! I'm sorry." What the hell do you say to someone who just told you that?

Her expression mirrors my uncertainty. "Yeah. I wasn't really close to them anymore, but it still hurts a lot. But Stacy. Well, she needs someone with her most all the time. She has only been in school for a little over a month, and I hope she sticks with it. Its really hard because she doesn't fit in with her roommate, and she gets lonely on the weekends. So she comes here, even though I think she hates me too. She's pretty difficult to get along with."

"You don't say…" I agree, sarcastically.

She smiles weakly at me. "So, I guess when you came down and asked if she was here, to me it was saying you were glad she wasn't because I'm lonely too and I like you and there is never a time when she isn't here. I thought it was my opportunity."

I contemplate this newfound information. I did not see that coming. I didn't see any of this coming. Damn, girls are complicated. Maybe Kyle and Stan have the right idea. "So what happened?" I ask, trying my best to stay part of this one-sided conversation/breakdown. Her legs are still open to me. What is she saying?

"It just felt…off somehow. I don't know." She sighs heavily in exasperation with herself. Leaning back in her couch, she places a frustrated hand up to her face, and she crosses her legs.

I am unsure of what to do next. Do I console her? Do we make out? What should I do?

Without thinking, I situate myself next to her on the couch, extending my right arm up behind her shoulders. The way guys do when they are on dates and nervous to put their arm around a girl. Only I did it out of pure habit. Hot girl + necessary cuddling equals sex.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes one more time. Anymore apologizing, and this awkward moment has turned into a fleeing moment for Kenny. I'm not so good with comforting strange girls.

I don't have time to think about stuff like that, because she pulls my face to hers with her free hand and forces her lips against mine. Again. Damn, she is indecisive. I don't complain though. I rearrange my body on the couch so that she can face me. She pushes me over until I'm falling onto the seat cushions with my back.

HOLY FUCK she is straddling me now. Her kisses are short and all over the place, but I've got a raging hard on just from looking at her so its all good. Her hair tickles my nose, as it falls down around it. Something isn't right here…

"I told Stacy you'd be a good kisser," she murmurs, and my eyes snap open. _Shit!_ Stacy! This whole time, and I've completely forgotten about her. The reason I came down here in the first place.

Andrea continues to kiss me, moaning inaudible phrases. I know I'm just going through the motions now, kissing her like she repulses me or something. She doesn't seem to notice. Or she doesn't care. Either way, her moans suddenly sound fake to me. She is very obviously overdramatic in her pleasure, and this is turning me off. She doesn't appeal to me like a 6-ft supermodel should. I have to get out of here.

I gently push her away. "Andrea, we probably shouldn't do this."

The look in her eyes are a mixture of hurt and confusion. I get off the couch and straighten out my matted T-shirt.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, pleadingly. How can a girl that hot even _have_ a pleading voice?

"No," I reply truthfully. Truth is, I'm obsessed with your sister. Guess I shouldn't say that. "I just think we should be friends. We live in the same building together, it could get complicated, you know?"

"Kenny," she states my name and stands up, looming over me. "I'm not asking for a relationship with you. You are hot. I want to fuck your brains out."

I blink in disbelief. _Did she really just say that!_

She tries to take a step toward me, but I back away further. "Whoa. Andrea…I have to go." I say this in as graceful of tone as I can manage, as I'm so completely blown away by the bluntness of her statement. I exit without any further harassment.

---

"Kenny, you _do _realize what you did, right?" Stan asks me, with the look of amazement all over his face. We were all sitting around my living room at night after Stan had told his parents. Kyle and Stan were sitting on the same couch, staring intently at me, and my information I had just told them about Andrea earlier.

I look at him with confusion. "No?"

Kyle takes one look at Stan and busts out in man giggles. Stan does the same. They both slap their knees with the palms of their hands, as if I'd told them a really funny joke that they couldn't get enough of.

"Holy fuck, Kenny!" Kyle screams. "You turned down SEX!"

He and Stan cease the laughter and stare at me, waiting for his comments to sink in.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

….

"**_WHAT_**?" I scream in disbelief. No I didn't! Did I?

Kyle shakes his head with enough force to dislodge his brain. "Yep," is his simple reply.

Stan cups his heart with his hands and sticks out his lower lip. "Aw, our little Kenneth is growing up!" He extends his arm to grab Kyle's shoulder, who in return busts out in laughter again.

"You guys!" I whine. "This is serious!" I realize what they are saying is true. I turned down sex! With an incredibly hot girl! "What is wrong with me?"

Stan stops laughing long enough to interject. "Ken, nothing's wrong with you. You actually may like this Stacy chic. You want to keep that option open, and you know fucking her sister wouldn't really do that."

Kyle nods his head in laughter. I'm kind of offended they think this is funny. At the same time, I'm in shock that they might actually be right. "Well shit," I say quietly to myself.

After they calm down, I take a look at my two best friends. They have been nonstop smiling since they walked through my door, Stan especially. He told us that everything went as expected at his house. His mother was supportive, saying that she had honestly wondered about the whole situation herself. His dad, as predicted, went on a redneck ignorant ranting rampage before Sharon could calm him down and Stan could get out of the house. Randy would be fine again in the morning. Kyle had pleaded with Stan to make his parents swear they would not tell his parents. He wasn't ready, and probably wouldn't be for a while.

That didn't stop him from allowing Stan to be all over him. I didn't care—I honestly kind of welcomed it. In a weird way, it turned me on. Yeah, yeah I know, pervert of South Park Kenny McCormick yada yada yada. But this is different. I watched them kiss out of the corner of my eye as I was ordering pizza from my phone, and I got all warm inside. They are so cute. Kyle still seems a bit awkward about the whole thing, but at least he's giving it a try. I think he'll find that he's just as in love with Stan as Stan is with Kyle.

Now, all but one piece of the pizza is gone, and my friends lay near each other on the couch. Its getting pretty late. I guess they'll be going back in the morning again, much like Kyle did the week before. Maybe we'll be able to see each other more often now that they know its not really that long of a drive between our two cities? I would like that.

I observe the two as Kyle picks up the last piece of pizza, takes a bite, and places a pepperoni on Stan's nose. Stan, overcome with joy that Kyle has at last returned his affections, snatches the gift up with his tongue, and shoves Kyle playfully. Kyle tilts a little to the left before gravitating back to his center stance. They give each other a warm smile, and Kyle continues to eat his piece of pizza.

"What do you guys want to do now?" I ask, to relieve the silence of the moment. They are cute, but I hate being ignored.

They both look at me in unison, as if I interrupted their little flirting session.

"Oh God!" I yell. "Maybe I should just leave. Leave you two to your business?"

Stan shakes his head. "No Kenny. Sorry. What do YOU want to do?" He mischievously looks at Kyle, who in return smiles deviously right back at him. I'll ignore them this time.

"We could play some Ultimate Fighting Champion III," I suggest, and point to my game system. Not quite as high-tech as Stan's, but worth every penny.

"We can do that!" they reply together. Damn, they may turn into one person if not careful.

"Alright. Sounds good," I say, and leave the couch just long enough to switch the power on and load the game.


	10. Till Death Do We Part Epilogue

That time has come. It is the finale of this piece, and your last chance to review! I attach a warning with this chapter—it is probably nothing you will have ever expected. If you liked the way I ended the last chapter, you may not enjoy what you are about to read. Just the same, I had to do it. If you don't think it's a good epilogue, however, you should DEFINTELY review to tell me this. And if you liked it, do the same. Did I mention I love reviews?

Okay, this is what my twisted mind brought you. Sorry if its cliché, tragic, insane, disappointing, predictable, etc. Happy readings!

Chapter 10– **Till Death Do We Part (Epilogue)**

_Stan's POV_

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today," I hear the priest begin.

I can feel my palms sweating. I close my eyes and take a deep gulp. Six years and nothing has changed for me. I'm still in love with him just as much as the first day I realized it. In fact, I love him so much I have physically made myself sick thinking about this wedding.

Everything is to run as smoothly as possible. That's what Kyle wants. He said he didn't mind if a rabbi didn't marry him—his own refused to marry such a couple. He doesn't care about any of it, so long as he could pick the honeymoon spot. Jerusalem it is. He never did say too much to me. Just that he had always wanted to visit the homeland of his native people. I was quite shocked at how in touch he had gotten with his Jewish roots over the past years.

"It is a blessing to see such young love endure. As we take a look at the couple that stands before me, we know that we are in the presence of true love." The priest continues, hollowing out my insides. Everything has to go perfectly. I cannot mess this up. I stand now beside Kyle, anticipating his every move. He looks as calm as I've ever seen him.

He had asked me if it would be acceptable if he wrote his own vows. I told him "sure," intrigued by what he would come up with. I could never write my own vows. I'm not poetic like he is. I'm nobody compared to who he is.

Kyle had graduated with a degree in organic chemistry. Even to this day, I really don't know what that entails. Graduating with honors, he's some genius scientist now that conducts experiments and creates theories all the time. He's still as gorgeous as he was back in school, and he's steadily becoming rich too. I finally decided on a major shortly after we got together back during our sophomore year. I went an extra year to complete my athletic training degree. Seven months ago, I was hired aboard a local community college's athletic staff, raking in the big bucks. Ha.

"And now, the exchange of the vows. The couple has chosen to recite their own. Kyle, you may begin."

I tense up. I can't believe what is about to happen.

"Thank you, father," Kyle says with a nod. "Since the moment I met you, I knew that you and I were meant to ride together on this magical journey we call life. We have had to endure so many hardships to get to where we are today, but our love has no doubt strengthened because of it. When I was writing these out, I asked myself, what is it that made me know you where the one for me?"

I pause at this thought. I wish I knew the answer to that question. Nervously cracking my knuckles, I look at him to continue.

"It was who you were when we were dating that intrigued me. I fell in love with everything about you. The way you bite your bottom lip when you are unsure of what to think. The way you curl your knees up to your face when you sit on the couch. The way you dance circles around me. The way you looked at me when I first told you I loved you. This feeling only grew stronger as we continued to learn more about each other, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with someone whose bad habits are even beautiful to me. You are beautiful to me. You are my best friend, my lover, and my soul mate. I will love you. Always and forever."

A single tear streams down my face, forcing me to contain my emotions. The priest looks at me.

"Do you have the ring?" he quietly whispers, and I'm brought back to reality.

I reach down, grasping onto the small silver band that I hold in my hand. I flinch twice as I extend my hand over to Kyle, who in turn graciously accepts my offering, without ever looking at my face. I watch hopelessly as he places it onto the slender finger of his bride. They met his senior year. Four months after he and I had broken up.

We were together for a little under two years. It was magical for me. I confessed my love to him almost daily, showering him with the goodness he deserved. Those were the happiest days of my life.

For our sixth month anniversary, I surprised him at work with a picnic. I knew this approach was highly overdone, but for me, it was new. I have never been much of a cook, and for me to even make gourmet sandwiches and homemade potato salad was a daunting task. I had pulled through though, and it was one romantic date, let me tell you. He first told me he loved me that night, and we made love for the first time. Being with Kyle was the most mind-blowing experience I have ever known. It was the feeling you get when you wake up an hour before your alarm goes off. The feeling when you ace your midterm. When you successfully overcome your biggest obstacle. When you score the game's winning goal. Being with Kyle was like being able to savor what Heaven tasted like. Having my own personal slice of paradise.

It had been about nine months into our relationship when I noticed a change in him. After a while, it seemed to me that he was with me only because he knew how strongly I felt about him. I would be lying if I said I didn't go on pretending it was all the same. But it just got to be too much…

I broke up with him on an unusually cool night in August. It had been raining earlier on. Typical weather for a bad day. He was speechless; tears rolling freely down his face. It was the first time I had ever seen Kyle cry, not caring about what others thought. His response crushed me, and I immediately began second-guessing my decision. In the end, I knew it was for the best. A part of me died that night.

"I promise to honor and cherish you for always," Kyle gushed, clasping her hand within both of his. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel my heart breaking. I should have never agreed to be his best man. I was a fool to think I could get through this ceremony in one piece!

"I love you," I hear her whisper. Her name is Melanie, and she is a dance choreographer. She is two years younger than us. They had to wait until she was out of school before her parents would let her get married. She doesn't know about me.

She is, in truth, the perfect _girl_ for Kyle. I see them together—they are so happy. He was never that way with me, and it hardens my heart to realize this. I would have never been able to give Kyle what he truly wanted. I may be the best man, but I feel second best.

Kyle looks behind his shoulder at me, sending chills down my back. He needs to quit doing that. Doesn't he know that I'm dying up here?

I think about his speech that he just gave. He loves Melanie so much, and it tears me apart. When he met her, I noticed that spring in his step come back, and I knew that I was out of the picture for good. I pretty much knew that Kyle was never gay, despite what he tried to tell me. I suppose I should feel special for being the only boy he's ever been with.

I scratch the back of my head to conceal my uptightness as just being fidgety. I don't want anyone to know why I'm shifting my positions more than someone who has to pee really really badly. Kenny nudges me in the backside, with enough force that I almost fall into Kyle.

"Its going to be okay," he says calmly and quietly. Kenny knows the whole story. He knows what I've been through. What Kyle's been through. And he can still tell me its going be okay? He doesn't know shit.

I turn to face Kyle again, and I feel two ice cold eyes burning a hole through my back.

Behind Kenny, a college-bound Ike stands, glaring at me with devil eyes. He hates me eternally for trying to 'sack' Kyle. He doesn't believe that his big brother volunteered to 'sack' me. Yeah, he's a dick, and I've only said like two words to him since he's been here. Fuck him.

Kyle always seemed a little apprehensive to bring me around his house. Probably because he never told his family about us. I was cool with it. I didn't want to know what would happen if Sheila ever found out. But Ike found out. Oh, and Ike was pissed. He walked in on Kyle and me, um….doing something that he found repulsive. I'm surprised Sheila _didn't_ find out about us after that… Ike probably told her. I don't know, Kyle never mentioned it. Then again, he doesn't really talk to his family that much anymore. They are sitting alone at the wedding, his mom weeping with happiness, his dad trying to console her. I don't know why Gerald stuck around that bitch for so long. She got on my last nerve several years ago. I guess love will do funny things to a person.

Melanie is pretty. Matter of fact, she is just about as pretty as I once thought Wendy was. Wendy is still pretty in my eyes. I look over at her, sitting in the congregation, alone with her pregnant little belly. While her husband stands behind Ike, breathing heavily. Wendy and I had reconciled our differences a few years ago, when she agreed to marry Cartman. Believe it or not, that was one of the happiest weddings I've ever been to. Wendy and I bonded again. I helped her pick out the flowers, the cake, her dress, everything. Most people that helped us with the planning assumed it was us getting married. We laughed it off. Though I admit it did feel a little weird. Ten years ago, I would have expected nothing less.

"And now, Melanie, you may say your vows," the priest says, signifying it is her turn by opening his hand to her and nodding his head once. She nods to him in agreement and turns to Kyle. Her blue eyes look up at him with hope and love. The way mine once did.

It dawns on me. Melanie is a female version of me! She has satin black hair, olive skin, and big, blue eyes! I wonder if Kyle noticed this. I wonder if he did it intentionally. I silently chuckle to myself. Right, Stan. Like Kyle picked the one girl out of the world to remind him of the boy he once made love to. Man, I'm a loser sometimes.

"Kyle, you are the missing puzzle piece in my life," she starts. How original. "When I first met you, my life was falling apart, and I was consumed by my own fear and hopelessness that I didn't truly give you a chance until we were forced to work on our project together. It's funny, I never liked you to begin with. Now look where I'm at." Is this the best romantic wedding vows she could think of? I listen on.

"I'm standing, in front of my closest family and dearest friends, and I am giving myself to this man, the love of my life. I know that I didn't give you a fair chance in the beginning, but I'm willing to spend the rest of our time together making it up to you. I love you for all that you are, and for who you have made me."

I could have done better.

Kyle doesn't seem to think so. He is beaming like a lovesick puppy. I can see it through the back of his head. God dammit this hurts.

"Ladies and gentleman of the congregation, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski." Whoa, that sounds weird. "Kyle, you may kiss your bride." I can't bear to watch them. Kenny pushes my back again.

"Stan! Walk down the aisle!" he tells me. Apparently its time for me to follow them out to the curb and stand in that line and have everyone say candy-coated comments about how wonderful of a friend I am to Kyle and how happy they are for him. And I'm supposed to say good things about the happy couple and pretend that everything is okay when really I feel like a dump truck has just poured its shit all over me then ran me over several times.

We almost jog outside to get there in time. They told us we had to be there in so many minutes during the rehearsal, so we are sticking to that plan. It feels a little rushed though. I wonder why weddings are so rigid. Shouldn't they be a celebration of love instead of a structured schedule? Maybe that's just me.

"Hey, dude, I saw you up there," Kenny whispers to me, leaning over toward my ear close enough so that no one else can hear. "This is really hurting you, isn't it?" Good 'ole Kenny. Always pointing out the obvious.

I lean back into him and almost bump foreheads. "No shit," is my harsh reply. What? This is a given!

"Well, you're doing great," he reassures me. "I doubt anyone suspects a thing."

I frown. Kenny used to be a lot better at consoling people. I'm sure he's looking out for my best interest (it wouldn't go over so well to know the best man is pining for the groom), but damn, that hurts. Part of me wants people to suspect. Melanie's parents. Melanie herself. Maybe then they'll be all disgusted, refuse to have Kyle in their family, and leave him to me. That's wishful thinking right there.

Kenny's retarded anyway. He doesn't know shit about love. The only time he came close to it was back when he became obsessed with that girl who's sister lived in his apartment complex. We found out later that the only reason she intrigued him was because she was the only girl to ever turn Kenny down. And to continually turn him down. They built up quite a bit of sexual tension, and Kenny tried harder and harder everyday to get her to go out with him. Eventually, they both exploded, leading to a night of 'hardcore raw animal sex', as he so delicately puts it, and he couldn't stop talking about it for days. But, like his talking, their passion died down after a few months of being together, and Kenny ended up doing what he always does. Leaving. I'll give him credit though. You could actually have considered her his girlfriend. Probably the one and only of his life.

I think Kenny's born a bachelor. That's his style. That's how he rolls. That's how it will be until the day he dies.

It doesn't seem to bother him though. Hell, he's even tried to get me into the sack a few times. When he is drunk. I'd be lying if I said I haven't considered it. You know, you can only hear so much about his infamous reputation for being the best fuck around before you start to wonder yourself…

Yeah, I know, I'm bad. But fuck, I'm lonely. I've always been one to stay not-so-secretly devoted to my old flames long after they've dropped me. It's a curse I carry. The curse of really bad fucking luck in love. I haven't been with another guy since Kyle. And its been too damn long.

I divert my attention to Kyle. My love. How I long for those nights of passion with him. I thought we were so amazing together. Who'd have ever thought two childhood buddies could knock boots so well? Ha. Shit, I feel myself getting aroused. Stop thinking about sex, Stan.

I say my hi's, my hello's, and my how are you's in this droning line, one by one. Each new greeting is sickeningly sweeter, followed by a routine hug in the end. Sheila Broflovski keeps eyeballing me, like I'm throwing the wedding party out of whack. What the hell is her problem? I turn away, trying my best to avoid Ike's malicious glare as well. Yep, I'm pretty sure he told her. Dirty little asshole.

Wendy is next in line. She lightly kisses Cartman on the cheek, mumbling something about "stop squirming". Then she holds out her hand out to Kenny, and they exchange a few friendly words.

She takes a step forward, extending her hand out to me. I accept it, catching a glimpse of compassion in her eyes. She immediately pulls me into a hug.

"Be happy for him, Stan," she speaks softly near my ear.

I hug onto her tightly. Wendy knows. She spent many, many nights with me on the phone sharing in my lament. She can see the pain I'm going through. This, for some unexplained reason, comforts me.

"It's time to let go," she tells me. I feel that knot in my stomach tightening, and I have trouble breathing. If only it were that easy.

I open my mouth to protest, but manage only a few inaudible mumbles.

"Sssssh…" she says soothingly, rubbing my back. "Be happy for him," she repeats, and I feel like crying into her shoulder. I know that's the only choice I have left. I have to be happy for Kyle. After all, he is finally happy.

---

_Kyle's POV_

Stan is getting prepared for the best man's toast. I watch him intently as he goes over his lines, and stands up to speak. I listen to him, acting as though he is truthful about the kind words he says about Melanie. I watch him fidget with his wine glass and the tablecloth, acting as though whatever he is trying to say isn't a big deal. I see his eyes dart at me then her then me again for long periods of time, acting as though he is truly happy for us. I smell his fear within every word, knowing that this is the last of him and me, acting as though it's just another common day. And I wonder, what is he really thinking?

Part of me wishes that Stan Marsh will stop running in real time for just a minute so that he has enough courage to leap onto my lap and proclaim his undying love for me and his disapproval of this marriage. A part of me wishes he were the one sitting as my husband on my right side, instead of being my best man on the left. A part of me wished he never would have thought that he wasn't the world to me…

I love him, and to this very day, I'm in still in love with the bastard. I gave him many chances, but he never took one. Not a single one.

When I met Mel, I could tell he was sad. I asked him if everything was okay, and he dismissed my question. I told him that if he does feel like telling me _anything_, then I am going to be sitting downstairs playing video games, and he can come talk to me. I'm listening.

He never came. I came to him to talk about my sex life with Melanie. I realize this is probably a worse move than a better on my part, but I wanted him to give me the thumbs up for all systems go. You know, somehow I thought he'd stand up and fight for me. Not go down without a battle. So much for that thought. It diminished soon after my senior year of college. He agreed to be my best man.

Melanie and I had been engaged for a really long time. Three years, ten months, and nineteen days, to be exact. Would you guess that _I _was the one that kept it going so long? Would you guess that I was the one who wanted to delay it in case the guy I thought loved me would shove his pride down his throat and take the plunge for me? Nobody ever loved me like Stan did. No one ever will again. I've lost him, my love, my life, my forever…and all he can do is say a fucking toast. A toast to me and my bride. The one I love second best.

I remember our sixth month anniversary, Stan and me. He had baked this God-awful attempt of a homemade potato salad and two weird tasting ham and Swiss croissants, and it was beautiful. Plain beauty to me. For the first time, I felt for him what he had been feeling for me all along. Just looking at his ridiculously cute picnic lunch that he made for us, I knew I was in love with my best friend. It created this need inside me. This need for Stan, the one who tried so hard for me to love him back. He'd been amazing to me for six months, and I hadn't ever truly known how I felt. On our anniversary, I told him what he wanted to hear.

Oh, and I showed it too. My warm hips pressed against his warm hips, thrusting. Our short, hot breaths panting for air. I can still remember the look on his face when I told him what I wanted. We weren't even out of my work place when I pulled his pants off and returned what he so delightfully awarded me that fateful night. He screamed out in pleasure as I dug my fingers into the flesh of his chest and sucked fervently on his member like an untamed animal. He collapsed on the floor after shooting his release into my mouth, and I took it like a real man. Or a real gay man.

I gave Stan what he desired that night. As the hours flew by, my passion inside increasingly rose sky high, shattering all condemning walls around me. We pressed our lips together, and I told him to make love to me. We laid on the soft blanket he had brought to cover the cold, linoleum floors of the chem. Lab. He pushed inside of me, and I, for once in my life, felt relaxed. Funny thing considering what was actually happening. It was a strange feeling. But I welcomed it with Stan. He loved me so much. I wanted to show him how much that meant to me. And that I finally felt the same way too.

Or at least I think I did. I do. I mean, I know when he could suddenly tell a change in me. It was almost nine months into our relationship, and I don't know. Something inside me snapped. A billion bad situations just fell on me at once. I had finally mustered enough courage to tell my mother and faced her wrath, Ike informally disowned me as a brother, and some kid beat me up in the chem. lab when he saw Stan and I making out one night. He told his buddies, and they liked to 'tease' scare me with threats and constant follow-homes. I'd never been so scared in my life.

I never told Stan. I didn't want him to worry about me, thinking that I doubted the relationship or wanted a change. I didn't. I had grown to love him dearly. I had never been so in love. It didn't bother me that Cartman was constantly complaining about his roommates being too loud in the bedroom, or that Wendy was so fascinated by our relationship that she wanted to execute a video taping of us two doing it together. Nobody in the world bothered me about Stan and my relationship.

That's what I thought, and that's where I got that courage to tell my mother. Unfortunately, her anger and overdramatic blow-up erased any chance to make up with my family before I moved out of the house for good. I remember that talk clearly.

"Mom, I've got something to tell you. Face to face." I remember breathing heavily, and she was just going about her daily routine, getting ready for dinner. I didn't want to mention it during dinner because dad would be there. Perhaps I should have used him as cushioning.

"Kyle, would you mind helping your dear old mother with the roast pork? I need it to be basted at 2-"

"Mom, listen to me. There is something I've been wanting to tell-"

"You can sit it in the oven afterwards and bake for twen-"

"Mom there is something I _need_ to tell y-"

"and we can check on it from tim-"

"MOM I'M GAY!"

Silence. I don't think a single soul stirred in the entire world for that minute long enough for my mother's rage to back build.

"Wha-wha-WHAAT!" she screamed. Her hands were on her hips and I took a deep breath, ready for the plunge.

"Stan and I have been together for eight months. And I love him. I think you should know this about your son."

And that's when my mother's meat-basted hand contacted my cold, pale cheek before I stumbled back in pain and shock. That was the first and last time my mother has ever hit me. I moved out that next day, never to speak to her. She is only at my wedding now because Dad insisted I invite my own flesh and blood to wish me happily ever after and all that shit. Every time I glare at her, she has a cold expression with beady eyes directed to my best man. If it weren't for her, I'd be in daydream land WITH him as we speak.

I guess I blame my mom a lot for everyone else's mistakes too. After our conflict, everything fell to pieces. Ike was curious why I had moved out, and against my mother's wishes, snuck over to Kenny's to come see me. He and I had bonded over the years so that we were good friends, but he came to surprise me and…needless to say I was surprised. I had also just gotten out of the shower when Stan cornered me and…yeah. Ike walked in on us. First he threw up, then he started screaming he doesn't have a brother anymore, and then he stormed out.

Then those jerks from the chem. lab came. I got my fair share of them, and the ball just kept rolling until one day, I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I shut myself off to any form of communication, including Stan. We pulled apart, and it got to the point he didn't try as hard. After a year and half of our relationship, I knew he was going to break up with me. I knew it was going to happen, and by that time, I felt powerless to stop it. It just hurt so motherfucking bad when that time actually came. It tore away a piece of my soul—I guess part of me never expected him to do it. A part of me prayed he never would.

Now, I stand before him, listening to him cradle these false words of happiness and congratulations to my new marriage, and I wonder why we are here. I love him, I would have married him. Those vows I said were for him. I was thinking of him when I wrote them. Aside from a few minor details. Sad, huh? We could have been happy, us against the world. I am looking at him with angry eyes, wondering why it is he never fought to get me back.

And wondering why I couldn't have just told him what had happened. God, I treated Stan like shit. He needed someone who would be with him through it all.

Why did I EVER ask him to be my best man? I'm a terrible friend.

"And to Kyle, dude, you know I love you," he says so casually. I can see him fighting back the very same tears that are forming in my eyes. "You deserve nothing but the very best. I wish you and Melanie a lifetime of happiness." He turns his eyes to the audience. Probably to avoid my stare. "To the happy couple!"

The audience drinks from his signal, everyone turning to converse about the sweetness of his speech.

I stand, frozen in time, looking at the only man I will ever love. He holds the glass of wine in front of his face, yet to take the damning toast. He has the softest look of compassion, love, and complete emptiness written all over his face. He looks deep into my eyes, piercing a window through my soul, and I see a tear drip down his cheek.

I silently cry out as he brings the glass to his lips, slamming back the remaining wine left.

His blue eyes suddenly fade, losing their lively twinkle.

All is lost. I, too, drink the contents of the glass, and kneel down to be near to my newlywed. She is my concentration now. She has to be. I have no other choice.

The band starts to play some obscure song, and the lights dim low. I am told this is the first dance between Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski. I extend my hand, which she graciously accepts. We twirl around on the dance floor, or rather she twirls around me, and I follow her lead.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Stan politely excuses himself from the wedding party table, and fades away into the dark confines of the room. I see him reappear in the glowing florescent light of the entrance hallway. I stare without blinking as his shaking hands push against the large metal bar on the door, revealing the snowflakes and twilight. I feel my heart drop out of my chest as he disappears into the cold November night.

I have no idea where to go from here. Time has seemed to stop still. I don't think my heart is beating. Melanie is dancing close to me, her warm body pressed up against mine. I have no choice but to dance back, soon hopeful to relieve this feeling of utter despair within.

You are beautiful to me. You are my best friend, my lover, and my soul mate. I will love you. Always and forever.

_Goodbye, Stan_.

The End


End file.
